


hospital flowers

by papparadise



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Pining, lucas is a doctor, lucas tries to be professional, slowish burn, spoiler he fails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-03-08 15:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18897826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papparadise/pseuds/papparadise
Summary: The first time Eliott wakes up, it feels like falling.





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from the song "Hospital Flowers" by Owl City <3  
> disclaimer: i have never worked on or been admitted to a hospital ward, my knowledge here is limited, please bear with me and i'll try to make it as realistic as possible!

The first time Eliott wakes up, it feels like falling.  
Air no longer exists in his lungs. They’re filled with lead instead, dragging him down, down, an immovable, suffocating weight in his chest that expands with each passing moment, every aching second lasting an age. Breathing feels like a distant memory. Light has no place here.  
The weight in Eliott’s chest pulls, and he lets himself fall down with it.

*

The second time Eliott wakes up, it feels like drowning. In sulphur.  
Slow snakes of fire are licking agonisingly around his neck, his chest, his stomach; scorching tails pulling tighter, tighter, tighter in red hot burns. The lead that fills his chest becomes a writhing, serpentine mass, twisting his rib cage, burning upwards and outwards and squeezing his throat, pushing out flickering tongues of red that rise against the walls of his skull, hot pressure building behind his eyes in a voiceless, violent caress.  
A cool hand against his neck.  
The fire flickers back a notch.  
A voice swims somewhere above him. An unknown language that sounds like cool, clear water, cutting through the suffocating walls of heat.  
Elliot feels like floating.

*

The third time Eliott wakes up, bright white light floods his eyes, and he immediately squeezes them shut, trying to assess his condition. His body feels less like a dead weight and more...like a body. Experimentally he twitches a hand. His fingers feel like fingers. He inhales. His lungs feel like lungs. He exhales. Air tastes like air.  
Based on these discoveries, Eliott deems himself sufficiently alive enough to try opening his eyes again. He cracks them open slowly, one at a time, taking in the white ceiling above him, hung with stark halogen light strips, as well as the tubes and wires just visible in the peripheries of his vision. His brain still hasn’t caught up with the wakefulness of his body, and for a few moments Eliott is unable to identify the features of the room around him, memories eluding him like a fish slipping just out of reach. As his brain tries desperately to pull itself from its stupor, a new object enters his field of vision. Two new objects, to be precise. If it wasn’t for the mop of brown hair floating above them, Eliott would think they were stars.  
_Eyes_. He thinks. _Blue eyes._

The eyes blink. Eliott blinks back. And then:

“Ah, Mr Demaury. How good of you to join us again in the land of the living. You had us worried for a moment there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like it! i've been wanting to write this since seeing pics of Axel doing "les 1001 vies des urgences", and i think the dynamic fits eliott and lucas so well. chapters will generally be much longer than this one (and not in present tense), but i can't say how regular they'll be - i'm about to start exam season, which is obviously not the best time to begin a long chapter fic (i'll regret this later). but anyway, thanks for reading! kudos and comments always appreciated <3  
> find me on tumblr! @papparadise


	2. ii

Eliott rolled over and groaned immediately, a sharp pain shooting across his abdomen. There were no white lights glaring at him now, and he realised he must have fallen asleep again, or else dreamed waking up the first time. From the thickness of his tongue and the heaviness of his limbs it felt like he’d been sleeping for at least a week.  
As the pain subsided and his senses gradually returned to normal, Eliott dragged his eyes around the room he was in, apparently alone this time. He was surrounded by cream walls that were covered in laminated sheets of paper, several white cabinets and what appeared to be a hand sanitiser dispenser. The bed he was lying in was tucked into the corner, drawn up underneath a window from which sunlight spilled into the room, illuminating his white bed sheets in soft yellow light. To the right hand side of the bed Eliott could see a complicated looking rack of tubes and small screens, and only as he followed the tubes down did he realise several of them were connected to him, feeding into a small grey armband fitted around his upper arm. Aside from this, Eliott’s entire upper half was bare, but a quick glance down reassured him that he was wearing sweatpants under the sheets, no wires attached to his legs. With a sickening jolt to his stomach, Eliott realised what the room he was in was. 

_Hospital._

__

__

_But why?_

His brain still felt sluggish as he tried to grasp the memories of what could have led him here, a rolling black cloud growling quietly in the back of his mind, hiding any helpful recollections. He was just beginning to consider ripping off the wires and getting out of bed to find someone, anyone, to demand an explanation from, when the door opened, snapping him from his thoughts.  
“Good morning, Mr Demaury, how are we feeling today?”  
What he assumed to be a nurse from the white uniform squeezed awkwardly through the door, her arms weighed down by a tray bearing a glass of water, balanced precariously on top of several official looking files. She was young and friendly-looking, her short blonde pony tail bobbing cheerfully behind her head. Daphne, her name badge read.  
She flashed Eliott a smile despite his lack of response and set the files down on top of one of the cabinets, before proceeding towards him with the glass of water. 

“Not to tired, I hope? You’ve certainly slept enough. Here, you’ll want this water before you do anything else, it’s a while since you last drank.” She began pushing Eliott forward gently as she spoke, tipping his head up to help him drink. He jumped slightly at the uncomfortable feeling of her hand against his bare back, but gulped gratefully at the water as she proffered it to his lips, a few drops spilling down his chin. Embarrassed, he jerked a hand up to wipe it off, but miscalculated the slowness of his hand, almost punching the nurse as he missed his chin.  
“Steady, steady. You’ll want to go slow for little while.” Her voice, if a little enthusiastic, was soothing, and Eliott did his best not to resist as she pulled a tissue from her uniform and wiped at his mouth, catching the rivulets of water. As hopeless and pathetic as it made him feel, she was doing her best to help.  
As she pulled away and set the half empty glass beside his bed, Eliott mustered up his strength to speak.  
“Where am I?”  
Daphne’s sparkled as he spoke, apparently delighted to hear him make the effort - it made him wonder for a moment exactly how long he’d spent asleep.  
“He speaks! You’re in Room 24 of the Dorian Ward, in Hôpital Essonne. No need to worry, you’re in safe hands. In fact, your doctor will be through shortly, and you’ll see just how safe those hands are. For now I’m just going to remove some of these tubes, if that’s alright?” She framed it as a question but was already moving as she spoke, carefully unwrapping the strap around Eliott’s arm, making various recordings on a clip-board as she did so. She explained each one as she worked - “The one’s just your heart rate, we’ll be checking it every so often...this one’s to monitor blood pressure...” - Eliott allowed her voice to fade into the background, returning back to his own reveries. Hôpital Essonne? It didn’t sound familiar. Eliott had been in hospitals before, for various check ups and analyses of his diagnosis, and once after a particularly manic episode he’d had to stay in an institute for a fortnight, but they had always been big, rushed places, where he was stuck in a shared room in a sterile ward. Here, it felt too calm to be a hospital; he had his own room, and Daphne’s voice didn’t sound as rushed or tired as most state nurses. 

“There we are, all done!” She concluded with a flourish, and Eliott flicked back to her to see that she had indeed removed all the wires from his upper arm, leaving only a red mark where the band had been.  
“I’ll just sort these out and then we can have a look at your files. It shouldn’t be long now until Doctor L- ah! There he is now!”  
Whatever she had been about to add was cut short by the opening of the door again, admitting a young doctor wearing a long white coat. Eliott allowed his gaze to travel up from the man’s scuffed trainers, strangely out of place in the cleanliness of the room, to his white trousers and pristine coat, a stethoscope and several pens sticking haphazardly out of the breast pocket, finally coming to rest on his face. And for a moment, Eliott simply stared. The doctor’s face was young, no older than Eliott himself, but mature-looking, smooth skin tapered across a defined jawline. His hair was a bird’s nest of long brown locks that seemed to bounce as he entered the room, lifting off his head in little tufts as he walked, practically defying gravity. All this Eliott absorbed in a moment, but what he really noticed were the eyes. Two perfect pinpoints of gentle blue that cut through the air of the room despite their softness, landing on Eliott’s own face with such intensity that he was forced to look away.  
The doctor cleared his throat.

“Thank you, Daphne, I’ll take it from here.”

“Right you are! I’ll just get these reports done and send them through to you before they go to Imane, she wants stats on all the new intake.” Daphne’s voice ran a notch too fast, but she smiled sweetly at Eliott and he made an effort to smile back as she flurried out of the room, laden down again with the wires from Eliott’s arm and her numerous clipboards and files. The room felt suddenly larger once she left, and Eliott felt momentarily lost in the vast expanse of his bed, unsure of where to look. The doctor hadn’t moved any closer, but was watching him carefully, as if waiting for something to happen.

“Uh, hello?” Eliott tried, his voice still husky from disuse. Apparently this was what the doctor had been waiting for, as he began to move across the room towards Eliott’s bed, his hair flouncing a little with each step.  
“Hello to you to. I’m your doctor, if you hadn’t gathered from Daphne. Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I trust she explained things to you?” His voice was soft, but lower than Eliott had expected, and for a moment he paused, entranced by the gentle ups and downs of his tone. Seeing his hesitation, the doctor wavered, hovering at the edge of Eliott’s bed and looking down at him. Eliott suddenly remembered his lack of shirt, feeling more naked under the doctor’s gaze than he had under Daphne’s eyes. Desperately hoping he wasn’t blushing, he tried to move the bedsheets further up over his chest, but gave up when he discovered his movements were still sluggish and uncoordinated, not wanting to embarrass himself even more by accidently punching anyone. Especially not the confusingly beautiful doctor in front of him, who in the meantime seemed to have accepted his silence as a sufficient answer. Which was fortunate, because the jumble of thoughts currently fighting for dominance in Eliott’s brain made stringing a sentence together wholly impossible. The doctor crouched down, leaning slightly towards Eliott as he pulled the stethoscope out of his breast pocket. His voice when he spoke again was slower, clearly trying not to alarm Eliott, and it reverberated brightly in his ears.  
“I’m just going to check your heart rate again, okay? I know Daphne took it earlier but we -”  
“No.”  
“We - Sorry?”  
The doctor froze, Eliott’s sudden outburst clearly throwing him off. Eliott backtracked quickly.  
“No, I mean - no, Daphne didn’t explain things to me. What am I doing here?” This being the most amount of syllables he had uttered in one go in who knows how long, Eliott dropped his head back down on the pillow after speaking, suddenly drained. From this position he wasn’t able to see the doctor’s face as he spoke, and by the time he managed to turn his head to the side to look, it was arranged in a perfect image of calmness.  
“You don’t know why you’re here?” He asked, his voice still soft but slightly more strained than before.  
“No…” Eliott managed to utter, his voice cracking at the end, tapering off into a whisper. If he hadn’t been so exhausted, he might have been embarrassed by how pathetic he sounded, but as it was he was too tired to feel anything else. He was tired of being confused, tired of not being able to remember, tired of being alone among strangers.  
The doctor gave the faintest sigh, before lifting himself up from where he was crouched next to the bed, moving to sit on the edge of it. Eliott tried not to notice the way the bed dipped down under his weight, the way his leg was mere inches away from where Eliott’s hand rested on top of the sheets.  
“Do you remember anything?” The doctor asked, not looking at him, but gazing out of the window above his head.  
“No…” Eliott began, but then paused. There were faint memories, caught in the edges of his mind. Nothing concrete, just an image of darkness, a flash of rain, a phantom pain in his head and in his chest.  
“I remember...the rain?” He tried, and was rewarded with a small, sad smile from the doctor. He finally moved his gaze down to meet Eliott’s eyes, and Eliott simultaneously wished he hadn’t, and wished he’d never stop. The man’s eyes were so blue, and so deep, looking into them felt like falling. But this time, falling didn’t hurt.  
“Oui, it was raining when they found you.” The doctor said quietly, and Eliott started, pulling his eyes away.  
“Who - when who found me? Found me where?” He demanded, but suddenly, wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. The whirling images in his brain were beginning to slot together, one by one, like the pieces of a grotesque mosaique, drawn together in a tableau no one wanted to see. The bridge. The rain. The bottle. The smaller bottle, whose rattling contents he had tipped into his hand, tipped into his mouth -  
“Some hikers. Some hikers found you under a bridge and called the ambulance, and you should thank your lucky stars they did.” The doctor exhaled. “Attempted suicide.”

Ah.

There it was.

That explained the pain flaring through his insides, the heaviness of his body. 

Eliott squeezed his eyes tight shut, unable to look at the man in front of him. He was ashamed, mostly. Of being a coward. He had always heard that suicide survivors regretted it the instant they did it - jumped, swallowed, whatever it was - and now he knew why. The shame, the image of absolute failure, was unbearable. He could feel his heart rate speeding up as he took in the information, his breathing becoming shorter as the memories flooded back to him. The loneliness he had felt, sitting under that bridge. The isolation. The disappointment in his parents’ faces.

“Hey, hey, calm down. It’s alright. You’re here. You’re here. It’s alright.” Eliott barely heard the words the doctors was saying, but the voice was soothing, and the cool hands against his flushed face were grounding. Gradually, his breathing returned to normal, and his thoughts calmed down enough for him to register a faint pang of regret when the doctor removed his hands.

“It’s alright. We’re not here to discuss that, we don’t have to mention it again if you don’t want to. My priority here is to make sure that you’re comfortable.” Eliott kept his eyes shut, still unwilling to meet the doctor’s gaze, but listened as he continued talking.  
“And I guess Daphne didn’t exactly explain where _here_ is, so I’ll straighten that out for you. This is an experimental treatment ward, for patients with particular mental problems - a couple are bipolar, like you.” The doctor paused for a moment. “Others are facing different challenges. Our aim here is to try and create a semblance of independence and rationality, give you a less sterilised hospital experience, more like normal life. The idea is that by slowly introducing social independence in a controlled setting, your recovery rate will be quicker, and future symptoms will be alleviated as a result of habits formed here. One thing that means is no visitors.” _As if anyone would want to visit me anyway._ “Your parents have agreed to this, of course, and they’ve requested that you stay here for about five weeks, or as long as we - that’s you and I - deem necessary to your recovery. It’s a team effort, this treatment, and I’ll need you to work with me on it. As I say, it’s experimental. If you don’t want to do this, we can discharge you tomorrow - your parents agreed only on the condition that you would agree yourself.” He paused again. “So? I can leave you to think about it if you like, there’s no pressure to decide now.”

Eliott took a moment to digest the information. Experimental treatment? Social independence? Controlled setting? It sounded like bullshit, if he was honest. Not to mention insanely patronising. But then again, nothing else had worked so far. Perhaps it was worth a try. He eased an eye open and stole a glance at the doctor, who was gazing absently out of the window again, his face free of judgement or impatience, simply waiting. He seemed content, as if he’d be perfectly happy to wait all day for Eliott’s answer. Watching him for a moment, Eliott felt strangely calm. A second passed, and he made his decision.  
“Alright.” He murmured, and the doctor immediately flicked his gaze down. “I’ll stay.”  
At these words, the doctor’s face split into a smile that could only be described as angelic, a toothy grin that lit up his whole face, sending a jolt down Eliott’s spine. It shone out in contagious joy, and Eliott felt his own lips draw back in a small smile of their own.  
“Excellent!” The doctor beamed, and began standing up from the bed, leaving only the ghost of his warmth there. “I’d love to explain more to you, but there’s a few more patients I need to see. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can and we can discuss more, work out a plan of action.”  
He continued looking at Eliott as he gathered up his stethoscope and picked up a few files Daphne had left by the bed, and Eliott felt the need to say something.  
“Thank you, Doctor…?” He tailed off, not having caught the other man’s name. The doctor grinned. 

“Lallement. I’m Doctor Lallement.”

The name seemed to fly from his mouth, flitting down and landing with a soft thud in Eliott’s mind, where it weighed down against his consciousness. Lallement. It was lilting, like a song, a lyrical name that felt light and yet hugely significant, even if Eliott couldn’t quite work out why. He tried to wrap his mind around the syllables, stowing them away in the depths of his conscience. The name felt like a gift, and Eliott felt like he needed to offer something in return. 

“Eliott. I’m Eliott.” He replied, locking eyes with the young doctor. Almost immediately afterwards he wanted to kick himself, regretting saying something so stupid. _Of course he knows your name, you idiot. He’s your doctor. He probably knows your height and weight and the last time you had a piss as well._  
But the doctor - Lallement - didn’t seem to think it was stupid. Instead, he smiled even wider, maintaining eye contact with Eliott, no trace of judgement in his gaze. 

“A pleasure, Eliott. I hope to be seeing lots more of you.”

And with that, he left, slipping through the door without another glance back. Eliott threw his head back on the pillow and exhaled heavily. It was going to be a long five weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> revision? exams? i don't know her.
> 
> hope you enjoyed this! i didn't mean to make their first meeting quite so intense, but hey ho, when is skam france not intense.
> 
> kudos and comments always appreciated!


	3. iii

"...So that'll be every few days, and then once a week you'll have your group therapy session, a chance to meet some of the other patients on the ward. Aside from that there's just..." Eliott stared at the ceiling as Daphne recited his weekly schedule to him, zoning out the persistent rise of her voice. It was now his second day of waking up in this bed - his second conscious one, at least. He had learnt from Daphne earlier that he had in fact been in the hospital for two days already, in an induced semi-coma whilst the toxins were flushed from his body. The knowledge of it terrified him, and he tried not to dwell on how his parents must be feeling. He had been allowed to send them a message last night, to tell them how he was, but it had been difficult to know what to say. What did you say to your parents in this situation? What did they want to hear? Hi Mom, I've woken up. Hi Dad, I tried to kill myself. There was no way to put it nicely.  
Sighing inwardly, Eliott zoned back in to catch the end of what Daphne was saying as she rearranged his bed sheets, having just changed him into a clean pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. "..Not very exciting I'm afraid, but you should soon be feeling strong enough to stand and walk on your own, and then you can start working on a programme with Doctor Lallemant..."  
Lallemant. The name sent a thrill down Eliott's spine, echoing around his brain like a forgotten secret. He couldn't even pinpoint exactly what it was about the doctor that intrigued him so much - aside from the fact that he was undoubtedly the most beautiful person Eliott had ever seen. Eliott's sexuality had never bothered him, but it was incredibly rare that he would fall head over heels for a guy this fast, especially a guy as clearly unobtainable as his doctor.  
And yet.  
There was something.  
It was in the softness of Lallemant's eyes, the way they crinkled around the edges when he smiled, their openness, the way he seemed so trusting. It intrigued Eliott beyond measure to know that someone so young - he couldn't be more than 24 or 25, certainly no older than Eliott - could have such an aura of calmness and lightness about them. And that was just it, he decided. Lightness. His whole body, the curve of his lips, the sparkle in his eye when he had looked at Eliott, all of it exuded light, like an exultant ray of sunshine after weeks of heavy rain. Even now, with Eliott only just beginning to emerge from the depths of undoubtedly the darkest moments of his life, this lightness was able to permeate, if only a little, illuminating a small, but persistent quarter of his brain.  
While Eliott lost himself in these memories, Daphne had finished sorting the bed, plumping the pillows around Eliott's neck to make them more comfortable. He was still weak, but his arms were functioning normally again, and Daphne had propped him up against a mound of pillows, lifting his head high enough to see out of the window beside the bed. Eliott was barely aware of her taking his blood pressure and sorting out a few things in the room as he gazed out over the courtyard visible beyond his window, over which a motley collection of pigeons strutted aimlessly. At some point Daphne left, and he continued staring out of the window, having nothing else to occupy his time with other than a scrutinous observation of the local pigeon activity. Which, unsurprisingly, was wholly unfascinating. 

"I suppose you've given them names already?"

Eliott was startled from his reveries by a voice close to his head. He whipped around and came face to face with Doctor Lallemant, who was stood at the end of the bed with a plate in his hand, having somehow silently entered the room without him noticing. Eliott stared at him in surprise, momentarily going blank. Names?  
Lallemant chuckled lightly while pulling up a chair from across the room to settle beside the bed, the plate still balanced in one hand.  
“No?” He continued, not waiting for Eliott to answer. “I always name my pigeons.”  
Stunned, Eliott continued staring, unsure if the doctor was serious or not. But he seemed to be, as he leaned across the bed a little to get a better look at the doleful flock of birds, his white coat swinging open slightly to reveal his name badge. _Dr. L. Lallemant._   
“Now that one,” he continued, directing Eliott’s gaze to a particularly ruffled looking pigeon, “Looks to me like a Matteo, don’t you think?” He glanced down and grinned mischievously at Eliott, who felt a small smile tugging at the corners of his own lips. He craned his neck up to see the bird in question, watching as it waddled a few steps away from the flock and ruffled its feathers.  
“Hm. Looks a little lonely to me.” Eliott replied, his voice still a slightly weak. “More like a Martino, I think.”  
He could see the other man nodding seriously in the corner of his eye. “Martino. Perhaps you’re right. He does look a little lonely. But he won’t be for long, I hope.” Something caught in the doctor’s voice at the end, prompting Eliott to turn away from the window and look at him again. A jolt dropped through his stomach as he caught Lallemant already gazing at him, something indecipherable swimming beneath the crystalline surface of his blue eyes. His gaze was focused but tender, almost painfully so, seeming to search for something deep within the fathoms of Eliott’s own eyes, probing past their glassy surface to find something soft underneath.

A heartbeat stretched, lingered - and passed.

Suddenly, Lallemant cleared his throat, and when he dropped his gaze it was almost a relief to escape its intensity.  
“Anyway, as much as I would love to sit here naming pigeons with you all day, Eliott,” He waggled an eyebrow. “The real reason I came was to offer you this.” He raised up his hand still bearing the plate, on which Eliott could now see some pieces of bread and what looked like some kind of porridge. He wrinkled his nose inadvertently at the slightly burnt smell rising from it, eliciting another laugh from the man at his side. 

“I know, I know, it’s not quite Gusteau’s, but we’ve recently taken on a new cook and he hasn’t quite adjusted yet. It’s nutritious, I promise. And you haven’t eaten solid food in…” He paused, calculating. “At least 3 days? Except drip feeders, which don’t really count. So you should probably have some. Doctor’s orders, and all that.”

Most people, though Eliott, would probably have noticed severe hunger pains by now, but forgetting to eat was something which happened to him fairly often in his low moments. Or, if not forgetting, simply not having the energy to. Sometimes a piece of toast could be so intimidating. So it didn’t really surprise him that he hadn’t thought about food till now, hunger pains being a long way down the list of things currently causing him discomfort. Nevertheless, the soft bread in Lallemant’s hand did look appetising, and despite its charred smell, the curling steam rising from the bowl was a pleasant sight.  
He began pushing himself up in the bed, but was stopped by a soft hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, easy. You’re probably still a little woozy, it won’t do you any good to get up. If you’re happy for me to, I’ll help you eat, and you can stay where you are.”

Eliott’s initial reaction was one of distaste. Be spoon fed like a child? Lying in bed, like some kind of helpless invalid who couldn’t even sit up? Not to mention the possibility of dribbling food down his chin in front of a guy who was, for the record, incredibly attractive? No thanks.

But the softness in Lallemant’s voice was evident, as was his uncertainty - if Eliott didn’t know better, he’d say the doctor was nervous. As before, there was no trace of judgement when Eliott met his gaze, only a desire to help, to ease Eliott’s pain. And, okay, maybe he was starting to get a little hungry. 

With a small sigh, Eliott dropped back onto the cushions, and raised his eyebrows at the other man.  
“Alright,” He acquiesced. “But no aeroplanes.”  
Lallemant chuckled, raising his free hand in mock surrender. “No aeroplanes, I swear.”

Carefully, he scooped up a spoonful of the lumpy oatmeal, bringing it up towards Eliott, allowing him to lean forward himself and catch it in his mouth. He tried his best not to make a face, but couldn’t hold back a cough as he swallowed.  
“What is in this?” He spluttered, incredulously. “It tastes like sewage.”  
Lallemant’s mirthful laughter rang out across the room.  
“I’m sorry, I know it’s awful. Basile is...not our best cook, but he’s new, he’s got time to improve.”  
“It’s gonna take a hell of a lot of time to improve that.” Eliott retorted, motioning towards the offending meal. “Porridge. How do you mess up porridge?”  
“Honestly, I don’t know, he has an exact recipe to follow but...anyway, at least have some bread? I’m fairly sure it’s edible.” Lallemant tore off a small chunk of bread as he spoke, bringing his hand up to deposit it neatly in Eliott’s mouth. Eliott tried not to dwell on the feeling of the doctor’s warm fingertips brushing against his lips. He really tried.

“So, do you hand feed all your patients?” He asked, chewing and swallowing the bread. Lallemant raised an eyebrow.  
“Only my favourite ones.” Eliott did not blush. He absolutely didn’t. “No, I mean, it’s not normal protocol, but since it’s your first meal after waking up I thought it would be wise to have someone monitoring it. We’re not exactly sure how much your body has recovered yet. Your stomach, especially, has had a pretty rough time of it...but anyway.” The doctor seemed to sense Eliott’s discomfort at the allusion to what had happened, moving on quickly.  
“Another bite? You never know, it might not all be bad.” He smiled as he proffered another spoonful of porridge, and Eliott was helpless to resist, taking the mouthful of insipid oaty mush with a grimace. They fell into an easy silence, Eliott eating another few mouthfuls without too much resistance. After several minutes of this, Eliott mustered up the courage to ask:

“What’s the L for?”  
“Hmm?”  
Lallemant paused in tearing up the bread, his slender fingers hovering over the plate balanced on his lap.  
“Doctor. L. Lallemant. What’s your first name?”  
“Ah, if I told you that, I’d have to kill you.” He chuckled. “No, it’s just hospital policy. Last names only, I’m afraid.”  
“Why? I know Daphne’s name.”  
“Professionalism? Beats me. Nurses can have names, but doctors, nada. It’s odd, I know. The whole point of this treatment is to create as normal an environment as possible, you’d think professional names would be unnecessary - but there you go. I don’t make the rules, I just manage the treatment.”  
Eliott huffed slightly, frustrated. It shouldn’t bother him, really. This was his doctor. They didn’t need to be on a first name basis. Their relationship was strictly professional.  
And yet.  
There was something.

 

* * *

 

“Leon?”  
“Nope”  
“Liam?”  
“Not even close.”  
“Leopold?”  
“Are you even trying?”  
“Fuck you!”  
“Alright, I’ll tell you. It’s Lucifer.”  
“The fuck it is not.”  
Eliott huffed as the other man burst into laughter, fighting the urge to flip him off.  
“Alright, you got me. It’s not Lucifer. How did you know?”  
_You’re too cute to be a Lucifer,_ Eliott didn’t say.  
“My razor-sharp intuition.” He said instead.  
“Ah yes, because that intuition has served you so well in guessing my name so far, hasn’t it?”  
Eliott fired a well aimed eye roll in the other man’s direction, raising his hands in a posture of despair. He was fully lying down in the bed again now, having finished the remains of the meal a while ago and been gently laid down by Lallemant. (“It’s better for the digestion - at least in your state it is.”) The doctor had stayed in the room after Eliott finished eating, apparently having nowhere better to be, and they had been planning out the next steps in Eliott’s recovery programme (including, but not limited to: exercises to regain the strength in his legs - which for some reason, seemed to have taken more damage than the rest of his body - group therapy once a week, an arts programme, and a multitude of mental and physical tests.) In the interlude that followed, Eliott had reverted back to trying to guess the doctor’s name, still bothered by this wall of impersonality despite their easy openness about everything else. Talking to him felt natural, and they had fallen into a comfortable dynamic of light teasing and jokes, interspersed with the occasional moment of serious honesty. There was something about the young man that made him want to keep talking, to share his own thoughts and receive some in return.  
“Fine. Lallemant it is.” Eliott couldn’t fight the laugh that rose in his throat when the doctor poked out his tongue in response. “So, how come you’re already a doctor? I thought the training took years, but you seem pretty young?” It was something that he had been wondering about since first seeing the young man (and whatever, maybe he he had a niggling desire to know if they were close enough in age to have a chance. So what?).  
“What, you don’t think I look mature enough? I’m 25, y’know.” 25. That made him a year younger than Eliott.  
“Which yeah, is fairly young for this profession. But I graduated my bac a year earlier and when straight into training, so I finished it all last year. But still, this is my first real placement, of having responsibility for a whole ward. Not everyone would give a newbie such a big role but my supervisor, Doctor Bakhellal, was my mentor back at uni and well, she decided to give me a chance. So I’d really appreciate if you did your best to get better quick and give me a good reputation.” Eliott let out a low chuckle as the young man quirked an eyebrow at him.  
“I’ll try my best,” He promised laughingly. “What made you want to be a doctor in the first place?” For a minute, Lallemant said nothing, and Eliott was worried he’d overstepped a boundary. But then -  
“My mother...was ill a lot, when I was younger, back in high school. I mean, she’s still ill, but she manages better now. And it was seeing her that made me want to help others like her.” His voice was no longer full of laughter, a faint cloud seeming to hover behind his eyes as he continued. His speech was slightly stilted, and it occurred to Eliott that whatever this was was difficult for him to talk about. There was a vulnerability evident in his voice that sent a strange surge of protectiveness through Eliott’s chest, and he shifted his gaze up to watch the subtle contractions of Lallemant’s face, silently prompting him to continue.  
“I mean I - well, I didn’t exactly...cope well with it, to start with. Things had always been pretty rough at home, and I guess I didn’t really try to help her in the beginning - there were months and months before she was diagnosed, when I just couldn’t understand her, it just felt like she was off the rails, distant, useless - I don’t even know.” He drew a hand over his face, chuckling humorlessly. “Sorry, I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this, it’s not something I normally share. Especially not with a patient.” He spared a glance at Eliott, who couldn’t help but notice the faint watery sheen over the doctor’s big blue eyes. He looked younger now than before, smaller somehow, shedding layers of false confidence and assuredness.  
“But anyway, I...well, I had some other stuff going on at the time too, and my dad wasn’t exactly supportive, so, yeah, it wasn’t the best. But once she was diagnosed, started getting therapy, it got easier. I understood her better, and realised just how much she needed me - and how much I needed her. So I started studying medicine, then specialised in psychiatry and mental health, so that I could help her better, and research different treatments and stuff. It kind of motivated me to work harder, and that’s how come I was able to pass my exams early” He gave Eliott half a smile, lifting and letting fall a shoulder in a small, self conscious shrug. “So yeah. That’s it really. Sorry, that was probably more of an answer than you bargained for.” Eliott felt a pang of something resounding deep in his chest at the sight of the other man so vulnerable, and before he could stop himself, lifted a hand to brush against Lallemenant’s fingers where they rested on the edge of the bed.  
“It’s fine, really,” He murmured, as reassuringly as possibly. “ It can be hard, I know, living with someone with mental problems - ask my parents, they could tell you all about that.” He smiled ruefully at the thought. “But the fact that you’ve worked so hard to understand her, to help her? That’s amazing, it really is. She must be so proud of you.”  
Lallemant smiled back at him, the faint frown lines around his forehead dissipating. He dropped his eyes down for a moment to look at where Eliott’s hand was still resting lightly against his own, pausing. Then, with a movement that seemed unnecessarily sudden compared to their current stillness, he stood up from his chair, pushing it back with an unpleasant scraping sound, as if he had suddenly realised that he was too close to Eliott. Eliott pulled his hand back, the warmth of his sheets doing little to mask the coolness caused by the sudden absence of the other’s hand.  
“Sorry, I-I really have to go. Patients to feed, and all that. Daphne should be back in later, I’ve told her to take you down to group therapy this afternoon.” Eliott nodded vaguely, raising his head up to watch as the doctor picked up the empty plate from earlier and began making his way toward the door, only breaking eye contact at the last moment to locate the handle. He opened it halfway, but then paused facing it, his hand still raised up in the act of opening. He was motionless for less than a second, but it felt like an age, stretching and teetering on the edge of anticipation. As Eliott watched, he turned back to look at the bed again, his eyes finding Eliott’s, something indecipherable stirring beneath them. 

 

“Lucas.

The L stands for Lucas.” 

He gave Eliott the smallest, most bashful of smiles, and without waiting for a reply, turned back to the door and left, clicking it softly shut behind him. 

Eliott let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

_Lucas._

He let his head fall back against the pillow. 

_Lucas._

“Goodbye, Lucas.” He whispered to the closed door, unable to fight the smile that bloomed on his lips, tasting the way the name sounded in his mouth.

_Lucas._

It tasted sweet. 

 

* * *  
The chair beneath Eliott creaked slightly as he shifted in it, leaning forwards to get a better view around the room. Daphne had helped him shuffle down the corridor after lunch, his legs still not fully functioning, where he had found himself in what appeared to be a lounge, half a dozen chairs arranged in a circle in the centre, most of which were already filled with a motley collection of patients. They mostly seemed to be around Eliott’s age or younger, with varying degrees of alertness. They had been introduced by the group leader, another nurse, and he had nodded cordially at each one, most names flying straight over his head. Group therapy was not Eliott’s thing. Especially not at this stage after an episode, when normally he would be lying in bed still, sleeping most of the day away. But, apparently regular attendance was an important part of the recovery programme, and so Eliott had allowed himself to be added to the circle. He was only half listening to what the group leader, a youngish looking male nurse, was saying, choosing instead to gaze around the room, taking in the insipid cream decor and large leather couches. As he allowed his eyes to wander around the room, they fell on the patient sitting opposite him, a lanky blond guy in glasses. Arthur, he vaguely remembered. He seemed as equally uninterested in the therapy session as Eliott himself, picking idly at the skin around his thumbnail. As he looked up and caught Eliott’s watching, he winked, and Eliott found himself raising his eyebrows in return - a silent exchange of _Isn’t this boring?_

After the group session was over, several painful minutes of introduction later, the guy sauntered over to Eliott and flopped into the chair beside him, staring straight ahead.  
“You’re new, right? I’m Arthur.” He raised a fist to knock it against Eliott’s own.  
“Eliott.”  
Arthur nodded, moving a hand up to push his glasses more firmly onto his nose. Eliott noticed a small band of tapped wrapped around the bridge, a half-hearted effort at repairing them.  
“What are you in here for then? You look pretty normal to me.” Eliott flicked his eyes over to Arthur in surprise, but couldn’t see any trace of malice, and shrugged noncommittally.  
“Oh, y’know. Bipolar. Fucked up. Whatever.”  
Arthur nodded again, continuing to look across the room in front of him rather than at Eliott. He was glad - the last thing he wanted was more scrutiny.  
“You?”  
“Oh, y’know. Depressed. Fucked up. Whatever.” He echoed Eliott’s tone, then turned suddenly to smile at him. “Listen, they’re not a bad bunch here. It might not seem great, and this group therapy’s the pits, but otherwise, it’s not awful. Better than being stuck in some state hospital somewhere. I’ve been through my fair share of those, and let me tell you, this place is like a hotel compared to them, even if the food is awful.”  
“The food is a bit awful,” Agreed Eliott, laughing. “How long have you been here?”  
“Four months tomorrow.”  
Four months. Eliott couldn’t help his eyebrows jumping slightly.  
“I know, I know. I never wanted to be here that long, but whatever. I think it’s helping. The nurses are good, and Doctor Lallement, he’s wonderful.”  
A faint thrill went down Eliott’s spine at the sound of the name.  
“It can be a bit boring though - this group is about the sum total of people our age, and most of them keep to themselves. But it could be worse.”  
“It could be worse.” Eliott echoed.  
They remained seated in comfortable silence until Daphne returned to lead Eliott back to his room, and Arthur jumped up.  
“See you round, frerot.” He gave a jaunty wave and disappeared through the door, narrowly avoiding tripping up a nurse as he did so. Eliott raised a hand in salute, then began shuffling out himself, supported on Daphne’s arm.

* * *

When he went to bed that night, a small nugget of hope was nestling in Eliott’s chest. Having met some more of the residents he was beginning to feel more at home in the hospital, and the prospect of staying here a few weeks was no longer quite so daunting. Doctor Lallemant - Lucas - had dropped in briefly in the evening to administer some pain medication, telling Eliott he was on the night shift (“I’ll be at the end of this corridor, so if you need anything, just shout.”) He didn’t bring up their previous conversation, just giving Eliott a shy smile as he left for the night. And when he finally closed his eyes, it was that smile that lingered in his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

Darkness. A whirling cloud of black, black fingers whipped around his head, razor sharp scratches against his cheeks. Long black tendrils contorted and became cold staring eyes, an inescapable fog of red pupils ogling, pushing against his face in skin-pricking clusters of ice, making a sharp frost creep across his body. He tried to scream but couldn’t, choked into silence as cold black daggers pushed into his open mouth, pushed down his throat and wrapped around his voice box and squeezed, tighter, tighter, tighter. He thrashed in place, scrabbling his hands around his neck, desperate for air. The waves of darkness pushed against his head unrelentingly, flooding his eyelids, cloaking him in total isolation. The heaving blackness seemed to beat a rhythm against his skull: _alone, alone, alone._

“Eliott? Eliott!”

A voice broke the rhythm, a warm hand falling against his neck. He gasped for breath desperately, trying to reach the voice, but a cold tentacle of darkness wrapped tighter around his chest, holding him back. His chest heaved, shaking, uncontrollable. 

“Eliott! Come back, it’s alright, come back to me.”

The soft hand pressed more firmly against his jaw, another one holding up the back of his head. Warmth radiated out of them, dispelling the icy black shadows.

“Eliott, come back to me. You’re alright, I’m here now. It’s alright. Breathe.”

His body continued to shake with breathless sobs, racking his lungs in painful gasps. The hands stroked gently, slim fingers brushing over his eyelids, falling over his cold skin. Little by little, his heaving subsided - he became aware of the bed beneath him, the wetness of his cheeks, the cold sweat sticking his hair against his forehead.  
A soft hand pushed the damp hair back, then his face was being held firmly between two palms. He heaved in another breath and forced his eyes open, vision blurring slightly as they roved manically, before finally locking onto the face hovering over his.  
Lucas.  
The blue eyed man was leaning over the side of the bed, a knee pressing into the mattress to support himself. He still held both hands firmly around Eliott’s face, moving them up and down over his cheekbones as Eliott returned to consciousness, as if he was trying to rub some warmth back into the cold skin there.  
“It’s alright, breathe.” He repeated again. “It’s just a bad dream.” Lucas shifted so that he was practically sitting on the bed, drawing Eliott’s head against his chest in an effort to calm him down. Ordinarily Eliott would feel some kind of embarrassment at the situation, worried about making Lucas’ t shirt wet with this tears, but at this point he was too exhausted to care. The feeling of Lucas’ strong arms wrapped firmly around him was grounding, and he allowed himself to lean further into the embrace, his forehead coming to rest against the base of Lucas’ neck. It should have felt odd, being so close to his doctor, but it didn’t. It felt natural, and comforting, and right now it was all Eliott needed. For a precious time, he could almost forget that Lucas was his doctor.  
Once Eliott’s breathing became more regular and his tears dried against his cheeks, he lifted his head up from where it was pressed against Lucas’ chest, the other man allowing him to slowly extricate himself from the embrace. Eliott straightened so he was sitting up in the bed, leaning against the headboard in a mirror image of Lucas’ own position. The side of his thigh just barely brushed against Eliott’s own, and he could feel the warmth radiating from it.

“Are you alright?” Lucas asked, without looking at him.  
“Yeah.”  
It was a lie, and they both knew it. Lucas sighed.  
“That wasn’t just a bad dream, Eliott.”  
Eliott said nothing.  
“Your breathing was erratic, your pulse was haywire, and at the rate your body was shaking I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve pulled a few muscles. That wasn’t just normal fear, Eliott. That was extreme terror.”  
Still nothing.  
“Has this happened before?”  
Eliott tipped his head back against the hard wooden bedframe and closed his eyes, sighing deeply before replying.  
“Yeah. A few times.”  
It was Lucas’ turn to sigh, drawing a hand up to rub his wrist. In the semi-darkness of the room, the white fabric of his hospital uniform seemed to glow.  
“And do you know what it is you’re so terrified of?”  
“No.” Whispered Eliott in return, a little too quickly. Lucas finally turned to look at him, his head leant back against the headboard like Eliott’s. Eliott was conscious of the doctor’s gaze roaming up and down his face, and he glanced over to him, noticing how the silver moonlight streaming through the window created subtle shadows across Lucas’ face, illuminating the curve of his cheeks and the bow of his lips in soft light. He watched the doctor’s adam's apple bob as he spoke again.  
“I think you do know. You’re just scared to say it. Am I right?”  
Eliott looked away.  
“Eliott, you can’t make fear go away just by ignoring it. Fear feeds on your denial, grows malignant in your silence. You have to identify it in order to defeat it.” The quiet forcefulness of Lucas’ voice made Eliott look back at him again, searching for the other man’s eyes. The openness there gave him strength, and he mustered up the final remnants of courage in his mind, wanting so badly to give Lucas the honesty he deserved. Heart racing, Eliott drew in a shaky breath, held it for as long as he could, and let it out again as slowly as possible.  
“Loneliness.” He breathed the word rather than spoke it, pushing it out of his lungs before he lost the courage to do so. “Well not...loneliness perhaps, but...to be alone. Abandonment. To be isolated in the dark.” The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he stared intently at his hands as he spoke, certain he would crumble if he saw Lucas’ face right now.  
“That’s how it feels when I’m...when I’m dreaming. It’s like I’m losing myself in the darkness, it’s just me, and me, and me, and the dark, and no one else. And it - it terrifies me, the thought of being alone...forever.  
He pushed a hand through his hair and exhaled, feeling Lucas’ eyes burning into him. When he finally looked back up at him, the aching pity in his eyes almost made Eliott regret saying anything, until Lucas lifted his hand silently and slipped it slowly over Eliott’s own hand where it was resting on the bed between them, the ghost of a thumb brushing over his knuckles. The tender uncertainty of the touch send a pulse of shivers up Eliott’s arm, and for a split second he was able to forget where they were, forget the crippling loneliness that haunted him, forget that Lucas was technically his doctor, and simply focus on the feeling of his warm skin.

“You’re braver than you think, you know.” Lucas murmured. “Not everyone would be able to identify their fear like that.”  
“Not everyone has such a stupid fear.”  
“It’s not stupid.” Lucas was quick to contradict. “Nothing that makes you afraid is stupid, just like nothing that makes you happy is stupid either. We all have our fears, I have mine and you have yours. None of them are stupid, but all of them can be overcome. Not immediately, but with time. And you just took the first step in overcoming yours.”

Eliott wasn’t sure if it was the sentiment of the words or just the sound of Lucas’ voice, but something crept over him with a sense of peace. He felt lighter, after admitting his fear, and wondered if maybe Lucas was right about defeating it. Slowly, he allowed his body to slide down the headboard until he was lying down in the bed again, curled ever so slightly towards Lucas’ legs where he was still sitting up in the bed.

“Sleep now, Eliott.” He heard the other man whisper. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

A surge of gratitude ran through Eliott at those words, and he nudged his head gently at Lucas' leg, hoping to wordlessly convey it to him. Lucas seemed to understand, bending his knee slightly to nudge Eliott back, before shifting further to the edge of the bed to give him more space.

As Eliott’s eyes closed again, a whisper reached his ear, so faint he could have imagined it.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

He drifted off, into a gentle, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wahay a longer chapter! idk about you but i rlly love the idea of eliott/arthur friendship. also feels good to finally get lucas' name out, there's only so many times i can repeat "the doctor" and "the other man" before i explode.  
> let me know what you think!


	4. iv

When Eliott woke up the next morning, there was only the slightest crease of the sheets to indicate that someone else had sat in the bed beside him. By the time Daphne arrived with breakfast and a new round of medication, the events of last night had taken on an almost dream-like quality, and Eliott was only able to mumble out a hesitant “Ouias.” when Daphne asked if he’d slept well.   
After being served breakfast, (which he fed himself, this time, trying not to feel too disappointed.) Eliott lost himself to a morning of physical examinations, a steady train of unknown doctors coming in and out, doing blood samples and heart rates and injections until his arms began to ache from countless needles. It was exhausting, compared to the relative calm of his first few days here, and by the time he staggered down the corridor to group therapy after lunch, slightly late, he was ready to fall asleep there and then. He spotted Arthur slouched against the wall as he entered, head bowed in the act of nibbling the skin around his nails, and made his way over, nudging the other boy on the shoulder as he settled next to him.

“Hey.”  
“Salut.”  
“I miss anything?”  
“Nah, we haven’t even begun. Someone flipped out and broke a table earlier, so we’ll be late starting.”  
Eliott raised his eyebrows. “Nice…”  
“You look like you had a fun day.” Arthur motioned to Eliott’s upper arm, where faint blue bruises had blossomed along his bicep, marking the entry points of each injection and test he’d undergone over the course of the morning.

“Yeah, something like that.”

They lapsed into silence, and Eliott allowed himself to watch the other patients in the room.   
There were a few people he recognised from the last session, including a startlingly thin girl with brown hair and bony limbs, tucked in tight as she curled into an armchair. Chloe, he vaguely remembered from last time. His gaze drifted past her, to the slightly burly boy with dark dreadlocks flopped on the next seat, his hand tapping an erratic pattern against his stomach. Alec? Alex? Something like that. Looking away, Eliott spared a sideways glance at Arthur, noting the raw skin of his fingers, where ripped and torn cuticles gave way to jagged nails and red skin.

It was strange, he reflected. Being surrounded by so many people with so many different problems. Some obvious, others not so much. He was struck by a sudden sense of the tragedy of it all. So many lives, so little _life._  
Arthur had begun speaking again, but Eliott’s attention was suddenly drawn to the door of the common room, where a white-coated doctor with tangled brown hair had just entered, talking vividly with another nurse. Lucas hadn’t seen Eliott yet, making his way with the nurse over to the other side of the room where the majority of the patients were. He moved among them slowly, dropping a smile here, a few words there, and Eliott watched, transfixed, hardly aware of what Arthur was saying beside him.

“...which was obviously great, because my friend Yann had said…”

“Uhuh.”

The vague grunt Eliott gave in response was disinterested enough to border on rude, but almost immediately afterwards he didn’t care, and he didn’t care about Arthur sitting there, and he didn’t care about the ache in his arm, and he didn’t care about anything else, because at that moment, Lucas looked up. Across the crowded room, the flurried movements of nurses in and out, the restless shifting of patients, the faint sounds of voices that faded into oblivion - Lucas looked up, and his eyes found Eliott’s. 

The throbbing jolt that shot through Eliott’s stomach as he met Lucas’ gaze was startling, and yet no force on earth could have convinced him to tear his eyes away at that moment. Lucas was bending down beside Chloe, a hand on her thin wrist, his head tilted to hear whatever she was saying, but his eyes were nowhere near her. They were trained intently, almost painfully, on Eliott, with a gaze that seemed to consume him, devouring the features of his face as if they contained the secrets of the universe. The sound of Eliott’s heartbeat throbbing in his ears was all he could hear as their eyes locked, and with another jolt to his stomach, it dawned on him.

Fuck. 

He was so gone for this man. 

Lucas’ gaze flicked away momentarily, to give a reply to whatever Chloe had said, and Eliott felt disappointed for all of one second until Lucas opened his mouth to speak, because then Eliott’s eyes fell to his lips and the way they parted slowly as he began talking, the way his pink tongue darted out to wet them as he continued, the way he hooked his teeth over his bottom lip as he paused in thought. Eliott felt his breath hitching and drew his eyes away to breathe in deeply, but in the end it was all pointless because when he raised his eyes again Lucas was looking straight back at him and air no longer existed. Nothing existed, except the ocean-blue depths of Lucas’ eyes; shining out at him like two stars, crying out _consume me._

“Eliott!”  
He was rocketed back to earth by a raised voice and a sharp nudge of an elbow in his side.

“Are you even listening to me?”  
“I - wha?”

Eliott pulled his gaze away from Lucas and turned to see Arthur staring at him accusatorily, elbow still raised as if to poke him again. He blinked at the other boy in surprise, which rapidly transformed into trepidation at the sight of the grin making its way across Arthur’s features.

“Oh. My. Days.” His face brightened slowly in realisation, staring at Eliott with a wide-eyed grin, far too smug for Eliott’s liking.  
“Oh my days. You like Doctor Lallemant, don’t you.”  
Elliot was too shocked to reply for a moment, haplessly opening his mouth in spluttering in denial.  
“I -”  
“You do! You so do! Putain, Eliott, that’s hilarious.”

Baulking under the shit-eating grin on Arthur’s face, Eliott fired a hit at his arm, doing his best to appear nonchalant, but quickly realising he couldn’t deny it.  
“Keep your voice down!” He hissed, glaring at Arthur’s eyebrow raise, “I’m not - he’s just - it’s nothing, alright, I just - shut up!”  
He gave up with a huff, folding his arms and reverting back to glaring at Arthur, who laughed out loud. _The fucker._  
“Woah, I know it’s desperate in here but sheesh, you caught that bug quick! Not that I blame you, he’s a good looking guy - not my type, but whatever, each to their own - but you realise he’s your _doctor_ , right? Even if you are almost the same age.”

“Yes, _thank you_ , I’m very much aware of that fact!” Eliott hissed, refusing to look at Arthur, but not wanting to risk looking up at Lucas again and blushing. He glared at the floor instead, silently praying for it to open up and swallow him there and then.  
“Ohoh dude, you’ve got it bad!” Arthur practically snorted. “Here’s me thinking you’re all innocent-newbie-without-any-friends, and there’s you making fucking _bedroom eyes_ at the first doctor you meet!”  
“You’re a piece of shit, you know that right?” Eliott mumbled, unable to stop the deep red flush that was blooming over his cheeks. “I was just - curious about him, alright? We’re not - I don’t _like_ him, okay?”  
“Oh sure, you don’t like him. And I’m the king of Norway.” The absolute fucker outright laughed at Eliott’s glare, hooking an arm over his shoulder to ruffle his hair patronisingly.  
“No really, it’s sweet though. He’s a great guy. Clumsy as hell and a total nerd, but you could do a lot worse. Seriously. Oh, and he’s definitely into guys,”  
“How do you know?” Eliott asked before he could stop himself, stoically ignoring the satisfied smirk that played at the corners of Arthur’s mouth.  
“Oh, I asked him once. I’ve been here four months, remember? We’ve had our fair share of heart to hearts. He said his girlfriend never forgave him once she found out, outed him to all his friends before he was ready, and then dumped his ass right before graduation. It’s pretty tragic, really.”

_Tragic_ didn’t even cover it. Eliott knew exactly how it felt to have your secrets spilled by someone else - he’d had more than enough experience of that as a teenager with a mental illness, and his heart ached a little at the thought of Lucas undergoing that trauma. He sneaked a glance up. Lucas was no longer crouched by Chloe, but was close to the door, exchanging some papers with a junior nurse, one of the interns. As Eliott watched, he finished the conversation and slipped past the nurse to the door. At the last moment before leaving the room, his eyes travelled back and locked onto Eliott. It lasted only a second, but it was enough to send a shiver down Eliott’s spine as the doctor disappeared from view.  
He knocked his head back and groaned.

“I’m screwed.”  
“Oh, you are so screwed, dude! _So_ screwed.”

With a well aimed _thwack_ , Eliott threw an arm out and hit Arthur in the stomach.

* * *

After enduring another equally boring group therapy session, Eliott had flopped back into bed, the rest of the afternoon passing in a daze of napping and headaches. Whatever the injections were that he had been give that morning had turned his head into sandpaper, a rough ache pounding behind his eyes all day, worsened by the harsh lighting and stale air in his room. By the time evening eventually rolled around, the pain began to subside, but his mind still felt stuffy and unclear, like thick cobwebs packed densely within his skull. Restless and heavy-headed, he spent the best part of an hour gazing longingly at the cool green glass and clear-cut evening sunlight visible through his window, until it dawned on him to ask to go outside. He hadn’t so much as left this floor of the hospital since waking up, and the need for fresh air was almost painful. But it wasn’t just the air - it was the whole feeling of being outside, the quiet comfort that nature gave him. He missed it. If he was at home, he would have been running to La Petite Ceinture by now; aching for the feeling of the cool breeze running through the tunnel, the fractured sunlight between the trees, the feeling of fallen leaves beneath his feet. There was something irresistibly calming about it - the life without sentiency, the vitality without pain. It was more than just a refuge - it was an escape.

When Daphne came in with his evening medication, he mustered up the courage to ask if there was any chance he could go outside, and was surprised by the speed of her agreement.

“Of course! That’s the whole point of your treatment here, you can choose what to do - if you think going outside will help you, then go! I was wondering when you’d ask. The hospital gardens are lovely.” 

She smiled brightly before looking Eliott up and down. 

“Of course, it’s probably best if you don’t stay out too long, your legs have only just begun to regain their strength. I’ll send one of the interns down with you-” She hesitated under Eliott’s unwilling gaze - “Not to walk with you, just to make sure nothing happens to you. We don’t want you getting lost and spending the night out there!”

Actually, the thought of spending the night amid the cool grasses, beneath the quiet light of faraway stars was quite appealing to Eliott, but he kept his mouth shut. Daphne disappeared shortly after, returning again with a stressed-looking intern trailing behind her - Eliott recognised him as the nurse Lucas had been talking to in the common room. He didn’t speak much to Eliott, but gave him an ill-fitting jacket and led the way towards the nearest elevator - slowly, allowing Eliott to follow on still-unsteady legs. Together the descended the floors of the hospital, eventually reaching a glass door which opened out onto the courtyard visible from Eliott’s window. 

“Gardens are that way,” The intern said somewhat gruffly, motioning to the right. “There’s an orchard round the back. I’ll be here if you need me.” He flicked his eyes disinterestedly over Eliott before leaning against the wall, apparently deciding he didn’t need to watch him too closely. Eliott thanked him, then slowly made his way in the direction of the orchard.

 

* * *

The bark was cool beneath his hands, a little rough, but firm. The subtle scent of falling dew filled the air as the sun began to set, filtering soft light between the branches overhead, their new spring leaves scattering it in golden flecks across the ground below. Eliott allowed his eyes to sink closed for a moment, breathing in the cooling air. He held the breath, listening to the quiet sounds of the rustling branches overhead, a far cry from the urgent beeping and whirring noises constantly filling the hospital ward. Here, the sounds were calm, pure, uninterrupted by machine noise and briskly squeaking footsteps. Somewhere, a bird trilled lightly. Eliott smiled, and exhaled. His head felt clearer than it had in days.

He was walking slowly among the trees - _orchard_ seemed too formal a word for the sweet lawlessness that reigned here, where tangled branches brushed unchecked against each other, and the long grasses rippled softly in the breeze, impeded only by the scattered clusters of wild bluebells. He lifted his arm slowly as he walked, allowing his fingers to trail through the branch of the tree above him before plucking a leaf, tearing it absently between his fingers, his mind emptying blissfully as the shredded green fragments dropped from between his hands. He was just reaching up to catch another one when a movement among the trees caught his eye, and he looked up to see a figure stood facing away from him. Startled, he considered turning around and walking back towards the gardens, not wanting to disturb the other. But, as he hesitated, the figure straightened slightly, and Eliott caught sight of his tangled brown hair and strong jawline, the warm complexion of his skin catching the golden light as he moved. 

_Lucas._

As Eliott hesitated, unsure whether to stay or go, Lucas stooped down, plucking a single bluebell and bringing it towards his face, his eyes closing slowly as he inhaled its scent. Eliott’s breath caught in his throat. Oblivious, Lucas reopened his eyes and let the bluebell drop from his fingers, a faint smile playing across his lips.  
Eliott’s already-weak legs trembled minutely as he stepped forward.  
As quietly as possible, he crept behind Lucas, holding his breath. As he drew closer, Lucas bent down again, to pick another flower. Eliott swooped in quietly behind him, his hands reaching the flower just before Lucas’ did, brushing against Lucas’ fingers as he plucked it from the earth. The doctor jumped, letting out a low “Putain!”, before spinning to stare at Eliott in shock. Pleased with himself, Eliott held out the flower, looking Lucas flush in the face.

“Here. For you.”

Lucas continued staring for a moment, before breaking into a radiant smile and reaching out to take the bluebell. 

“Putain, Eliott, you scared me.”

“Sorry, that wasn’t my intention.” Lucas raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe it was a little bit.” Eliott conceded as Lucas rolled his eyes, twirling the flower idly between his forefinger and thumb. The dappled sunlight fell across the waves of his hair, creating soft golden highlights. Eliott resisted the urge to reach out a hand and run it through the tangled locks, opting instead to pick another leaf and flick it at Lucas as they began slowly walking, side by side. 

“What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have patients to see?”

“What are you, my manager?” Eliott watched the way Lucas’ lips parted as he smiled. “But no, it’s the end of my shift. I often come here in the evenings before going home. It’s calming.” He glanced across at Eliott.

“And you? What are you out here for?”

“To breathe.”

Lucas nodded understandingly, his elbow knocking gently against Eliott’s.

“I’m glad. It’s good for you not to be cooped up in that room forever. I wouldn’t have made you come outside, but I’m glad you made that decision for yourself.”

Eliott smiled back in response, and they continued walking in silence, Lucas matching Eliott’s slow pace, flower still twisting absently in his hand. The air began to cool as the sun dropped lower in the sky, their elongated shadows stretching out across the damp earth. Eventually, Eliott broke the silence.

“I’ve always liked being outside. It feels calmer - I don’t have to think, or feel, or decide anything. The grass doesn’t care what I do, the trees don’t what I do. We can all just...exist. In the quiet.”

Lucas murmured in agreement, glancing at Eliott before gazing up pensively through the trees, watching the last rays of pink and gold chase each other across the sky.

“What else do you like?”

He wasn’t looking at Eliott, still watching the sky, but he sounded genuinely interested. Eliott hadn’t been expecting the question and had to think for a moment, the sound of their feet in the grass filling the silence.

“Drawing. Art has always been a kind of escape for me.”

He wasn’t sure why he suddenly decided to share that sacred part of himself, afraid that it was too personal, but there was nothing in Lucas’ open face except understanding, and Eliott felt prompted to continue.

“Sometimes when I can’t express myself with words, I can do it in a drawing.” He shrugged, unsure what else to say until Lucas spoke instead.

“I get that. I guess I do the same - not with drawing, I can’t draw for shit,” He breathed out a laugh. “But with music. When I play piano, it’s like my emotions are forming on each note. If I tried to form them with words, it’d be a mess, but with the music they just...make sense. It’s a bit weird I guess, but…” He tailed off.

“We like weird, I think.” 

Eliott couldn’t help grinning as he looked at Lucas, taking a mental snapshot of the way Lucas’ eyes crinkled as he laughed, repeating Eliott’s words with a slightly bashful grin.

“We like weird.”

* * *

They had walked over the whole orchard for more than an hour, looping circles around trees and straying from the paths to wander across overgrown glades until the sun had well and truly set. Their conversation rose and fell in easy waves until Eliott lost track of what they were talking about - it was so easy to get lost in Lucas laugh, in the low reverberations of his honest whispers, in the louder sounds of his voice as he made a joke. Talking to him felt natural, as natural as the grasses they crossed over and the trees they slipped past, and so it was with a great force of willpower that he finally surrendered to Lucas when he suggested they go back, the darkness of night stealing slowly across the sky. They fell into silence again as they paced side by side towards the hospital building, arms knocking into each other occasionally as they walked. The urge to draw his hand up and tangle it into Lucas’ where it hung down between them was almost painful, and Eliott clenched his fist in an effort to resist. Too soon, they reached the courtyard, pausing just before the door. As Lucas glanced up at the building, Eliott turned towards him, barely a foot away from his face. 

“This is where we say goodnight, then.”

Lucas turned at the sound of his voice, having to tilt his face up to look at him. Mere inches away now. Their eyes locked, and Eliott noticed how wide Lucas’ pupils were blown, expanding into the blue irises around them. He allowed his gaze to drop lower, for less than a second. Lucas’ lips were pale in the dim light, deep shadows accentuating their curves. They parted slightly as he exhaled. Eliott moved minutely closer. He flicked his eyes back up to Lucas’ own, which were filled with an intensity that made Eliott’s breath catch, wavering under the strength of a gaze that was almost too much, and yet not enough. Only centimeters now. Eliott’s heart hammered in his chest as he began to lean down, painfully slowly, eyes trained on Lucas, who stared back at him, unblinking, his head tilting fractionally upwards. He was so close, so close. Eliott could feel the warmth of Lucas’ breath between them now, and he struggled to keep his composure, ready to lean down, down, down - 

“Eliott!”

With a snap, he straightened up, Lucas jerking backwards. 

_Whoever that is, had better have a really. Good. Fucking. Reason._

Eliott turned around to see the intern from earlier, making his way over from where he had just come through the door. 

“Eliott! You’ve been forever, Daphne said she wanted you back before it gets dark - oh, Doctor Lallement. Good evening.” The intern suddenly exchanged his grouchy voice for a polite one, straightening his uniform self-consciously as he noticed Lucas standing behind Eliott. “I was just uh, overseeing Eliott’s walk.” Eliott felt a small twinge of satisfaction at the young nurse’s evident embarrassment. Reluctantly, he moved towards him, making sure to give him a steely glare. He couldn’t have known he was interrupting anything, but still. He was interrupting. The nurse pivoted, making sure Eliott was following him as he walked back towards the door. Heart in his throat, Eliott made one last effort to turn back, to say something, anything to Lucas, even if it was just a goodnight. 

He turned, and was greeted with the sight of an empty courtyard.

Lucas was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooweeee we're getting there, mecs, we're getting there.  
> i rlly hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it, because i had a lot of fun doing this one. and we can all agree lucas is a total flower-lover at heart, right?  
> as always, kudos and comments very much appreciated!  
> tumblr: @papparadise


	5. interlude - lucas

When Lucas was 11 years old, his mother took him skiing in the Alps. It was his first time skiing, and he had been filled with fear as he stood at the top of the first track, white walls of snow sloping up and around and in front of him. He had barely heard the instructor’s countdown as he pushed forward on the ski poles, the sound of his pounding heart beat and the crunching slide of his skis over the firm snow filling his ears. It had begun slowly, rolling down the gentle slope before the bigger drop, and it had been this false sense of security that led him to unclench his jaw, squeeze his eyes open a fraction to see the small snow drifts flashing past him, relax his shoulders. And so he wasn’t prepared when the real slope began, when the ground dropped away from beneath his skis as he picked up speed, rushing faster down the hill, people and trees and ski lifts and jumps flashing _fasterfasterfaster_ past his eyes, the air rushing around his head in a roaring gust, his breath whipped up and stolen away, lost to the racing wind.

It was terrifying. And it was beautiful. 

The force of the descent had kept his head locked in place, cold wind biting his cheeks in a burning sensation that was more heat than ice, that was painful, but exhilarating. And despite the irrepressible feeling of fear as his stomach dropped into his feet and his fingers threatened to lose their grip on the poles, he had found the strength to look up. He had watched, enraptured, as the low sun sparkled across the snowy mountain, a tableau of brilliant white mounds and distant ski huts and far-off trees spread out below him in an open, glittering masterpiece. When he reached the bottom, he didn’t wait for his mother. He jumped onto the first ski lift he saw, to run the slope again. And again. And again.

 

* * *

 

When Lucas finally reached his apartment that night, a similar feeling was rocking through his body, clenching his stomach in fear as he went through the motions of unlocking the door, flicking the lights on, and greeting Ouba, his tiny but energetic Pomeranian. The adrenaline didn’t leave as he flicked the kettle on for some coffee, the smallest tremor of his hands as he spooned the grains into a filter betraying the chaos in his mind. Only as he sank down onto the sofa, Ouba immediately curling up onto his lap, did he finally allow it all to resurface, his memories offering themselves up in a vibrant picture show.  
A mess of brown hair scattered across a white pillow in sleep. A pair of blue-grey eyes finding his across a crowded room. Slender fingers plucking a flower from beneath his shaking hands. A darkening sky, a voice full of light and laughter at his side. And finally, finally - the memory of those lips, mere inches away from his, was almost too much. He couldn’t bear to think of them, of their soft curves, wrapped in dark shadows, brushed with the slightest amount of perspiration. Of the way they had partly minutely, mirroring his own. Of the warm breath that had ghosted over his own aching mouth, like a sun-warmed breath of wind against his tingling skin...

Lucas drew in a deep sigh, pushing his hand through his hair before dropping it down to stroke Ouba’s snout as she nuzzled against his stomach.

_Eliott._

The name had been tumbling through his thoughts for days now, like a vine blossoming slowly into flower, wrapping around and pushing into his mind at every opportunity. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, he absolutely didn’t, but something about the broken young man in the hospital had flicked a light on in his mind, and try as he might he couldn’t flick it off again. It was just there, in every corner of his thoughts, lingering, waiting, wanting.

_Eliott._

The name sent him back, stumbling across the years of his adolescence, dropping him back there, again, on the first slope. The first E, and he was pushing off with the ski poles, inching forwards. The next L and he was gaining speed, the I and the O rushing past as his stomach clenched and unclenched in terror, his white-boned fingers gripping the handles in fear until the two T’s, the first and then the second, erupting around him as he looked up and saw the brilliant, sparkling mountain give way at his feet, losing himself to the glittering beauty that enveloped him. Unknown, but wonderful. Promising so much, but uncontrollable, unpredictable. Beautiful, but _terrifying._ Terrifying, but _beautiful._

Lucas took a large draught of scalding coffee, trying to force some calm into his mind. Realistically, it was impossible. This was his patient. He was a doctor. There were a million and one rules that said why they couldn’t, why they shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be professional. It wouldn’t be beneficial to Eliott’s treatment. It wouldn’t do his career any favours.

Beneath his slowly roving hands, Ouba stretched out a leg and wagged her tail as he caressed a furry ear, nipping out her tongue to lick a rough stripe up his thumb. A faint surge of jealousy flickered through him as he looked down at her snuggling into his thighs. He’d give anything, right now, to have such a careless existence, to simply eat and sleep and walk in circles each day without the inconvenience of emotions and beautiful boys and fucking _professionalism._

“What d’you think, Oubs?” He murmured, fondling the other ear as she closed her eyes obliviously. “He’s my patient. I don’t even know if he likes me.” 

And it was true. He didn’t know. It certainly felt like there was something there, something causing the electric current that seemed to run between them every time he met Eliott’s eyes, the rolling in his stomach every time he heard Eliott’s voice, the sparks that burst in his chest whenever Eliott smiled. But what if it was nothing? What if it was just him? They hadn’t even known each other that long, and for all he knew Eliott might not even like boys. Sure, there had certainly been something as they walked together that evening, and hadn’t Eliott been the one to lean down first, before they were interrupted? But then, it didn’t necessarily mean he liked Lucas. He might just be playing, seeing how far he could push the young, inexperienced doctor. He might not even have noticed it was happening, maybe it hadn’t happened, maybe it was all in Lucas’ head, maybe -

He downed the rest of the coffee in one gulp, standing up abruptly as a disgruntled Ouba hopped unwillingly onto the floor. He needed to stop thinking, needed to clear his head. And the best way of doing this, he had discovered, was music. Playing piano used up just enough of his brain power that he was unable to lose himself to the torrents of questions in his mind, and it had been his coping mechanism for years when he was younger, drowning out the sounds of his parents arguing with the softer sounds of the piano keys.

He sat down at his ancient piano, flexing his fingers as he tried to focus on anything other than the doubts creeping across his mind. He picked a piece, and played. When it was over, he played another, and another, and another. He played until he couldn’t play any more, until his fingers were aching and the music blurred in front of his eyes. And then he played some more, all wrong notes and broken rhythms and confused jumps as his fingers stumbled across the keys. At last, with the tangled melodies still tripping in his ears, he collapsed into bed.

 

When he eventually fell asleep, hours later, he dreamed of slipping across startlingly white slopes that collapsed under his feet. He dreamed of tipping over the icy edge, and falling, falling, falling, down into a pair of shining blue-grey eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to @Mystic_reader for inspiring me to do a lucas POV! i actually really loved writing this, so let me know if you want more from his POV, and i'll think about doing some longer ones  
> thank you again for reading, and for all the lovely comments i've had so far! you guys are honestly too sweet, and i appreciate every single comment you leave so much <3


	6. vi

49 and half hours had passed since his walk with Lucas, and Eliott hadn’t seen the younger man once. Which didn’t mean anything, he reassured himself. Lucas had other patients. _Better patients, less annoying ones._ It might have been his day off. _He’s avoiding you._ He was probably just busy. _You’re not important. You were too much for him, why did talk so much, why were you leaning down did you really think he would -_

“Frerot! I’m going insane.”

Arthur swung through the half open door without warning, collapsing onto the end of Eliott’s bed with a dramatic flounce.

“Like really, honestly,” He swung his feet up to lean against the footboard of the bed. “Genuinely, truly, insane.”

Eliott swiftly pushed his thoughts of Lucas to the back of his mind to focus on his bespectacled friend ( _Were they friends?_ They seemed to be. You couldn’t not be Arthur’s friend. He seemed to have skipped the awkwardness of being acquaintances and upgraded himself to the status of friend - which, really, was a good thing. Eliott needed all the friends he could get.)

“You know how many times I’ve had to do the Rorschach this morning?”

Eliott raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Four times. This new bloody therapist. He doesn’t even change the cards! Honestly, I felt like making up a new response each time. _Oh, that one’s a unicorn, oh now it looks like a warthog, hey I think it’s your ex-wife Monsieur Therapist!”_ He groaned and flung out an arm to poke Eliott. “Dude, you’re lucky you only have group therapy at the moment, once you get a one-on-one it’s like, physically painful, I swear. They should make it a form of corporal punishment.”  
“What, death by Rorschach?”  
“Yup. Maybe they’ll even use your deceased body as a model for a new card.”  
Eliott laughed out loud, and they continued chatting about everything from therapy to their old schools ( _“We had this old mural in our common room, I kid you not dude it looked like someone had vomited paint on the wall.”_ ) until Daphne interrupted a few minutes later, carrying a small parcel and a bottle of medication. 

“Good morning Eliott, Arthur!” She nodded at them both, apparently unsurprised to see Arthur there, and counted out some pills for Eliott, dropping them into his hand with a glass of water. “That’s your lot until this afternoon, then you’ll have the anti-inflammatories again and some painkillers, if you still want them. Oh, and before I forget!” She smiled brightly before handing Eliott the parcel; a small, flat package loosely wrapped in brown paper. “Doctor Lallemant asked me to drop this off for you, he said you’d know what to do with it.” Flashing a smile at both of them, she flitted back out of the room, abandoning Eliott to the scrutiny of Arthur’s suspicious smirk.

“Are my eyes deceiving me? Or did she just give you a gift from Doctor Lallemant? You have a lot of explaining to do, my friend.” 

Eliott shook his head desperately as Arthur raised his eyebrows, throwing his arms up in surrender. 

“I don’t know what it is - don’t give me that look!” He shoved at Arthur as he laughed at Eliott’s evident embarrassment. “It’s not like _that_ , it’s probably just, I don’t know, something my parents sent for me.” 

Nevertheless, he struggled to hide his own anticipation and curiosity as he lifted the package, feeling the hard corners and smooth surface of the object inside. Pointedly ignoring Arthur’s gaze, he pulled off the brown paper, revealing a small black book. Flicking it open, he was met with pages and pages of thick cream paper, out of which a small post-it note fluttered, a line of messy handwriting scrawled across it.

_For the thoughts without words.  
L.L_

Eliott read the note, devouring the handwriting with his eyes and stowing it away in his hand before Arthur could get a chance to see it.

“It’s a sketchbook,” He breathed, glancing up at Arthur before looking back down to the blank pages beneath his hands. For the thoughts without words. He flicked his mind back to the conversation they’d had in the orchard

_“Sometimes when I can’t express myself with words, I can do it in a drawing.”_  
...  
_“I get that. When I play piano, it’s like my emotions are forming on each note. If I tried to form them with words, it’d be a mess, but with the music they just...make sense.”_  
...  
_“We like weird.”_

He struggled to keep his face blank under Arthur’s scrutinous gaze. Truth was, he was in shock. He hadn’t been expecting Lucas to even remember her liked drawing, let alone give him a sketchbook. _It’s just because he thinks it’ll be good for your treatment._ He reminded himself. _It doesn’t mean anything._ And he said as much to Arthur, simply explaining that he’d mentioned drawing as a coping mechanism to the doctor, who had probably taken it upon himself to help Eliott’s treatment by providing the book. It was just a sketchbook. No biggie. 

And yet he couldn’t help but look out for Lucas even harder after that, anxious to thank him for the gift. 

 

* * *

 

After a morning spent doing close to nothing with Arthur, a health check up from another doctor and lunch in the communal canteen for the first time - which, needless to say, was a painful experience - Eliott’s boredom levels were through the roof. There had been a flurry of activity in the corridor outside his room all morning, but very little entertainment besides that, and eventually he resorted to venturing down into the common room. If nothing else, he thought, it would be good to make a few more friends.  
As he reached the end of his corridor, however, he was very nearly thrown face forwards onto the floor by a rushing figure crashing round the corner into his chest, simultaneously dropping a pile of folders. He briefly felt the pressure of a warm body and the brush of hair against his chin before he regained his footing, frowning down at the human cannonball teetering in front of him.

“Fuck, sorry - Lucas?”

He realised who it was with a jolt, stepping back in surprise at the sight of Lucas’ frazzled face and stressed frown.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there. But hey, I was looking for you, I just wanted to say thank you, for the sketchbook, I really -”

“Putain, Eliott, not now! Get out of the way!”

Eliott’s voice died in his throat as Lucas interrupted abruptly, the harshness of his voice making him whip his head back in surprise. The doctor didn’t seem to have heard, or cared, about what Eliott had been saying, but pushed away from him, grabbing the files off the floor with violent jerks of his hands. Eliott remained frozen for a moment, then blinked suddenly and dropped down to help, retrieving a folder from where it had fallen behind him.

“Sorry, I just -”  
“Fuck, I don’t have time for this! Where’s that -” He looked around, flustered, for the last file, before spotting in Eliott’s hands. “That one, thanks.” He said curtly, grabbing the file from Eliott before turning swiftly and rushing back down the corridor without another glance back, his coat slightly askew on his shoulders. 

Stunned, Eliott watched him go, his hands still stupidly outstretched where he had been holding out the folder. _What was that?_ In the time he had known Lucas - which admittedly, wasn’t very long - he had never seemed frustrated or short with Eliott, and never downright rude. A tendril of doubt crept into Eliott’s mind. Had he misread the signs? Had Lucas got sick of him already, scared off by the things they’d talked about in the garden? Perhaps Lucas didn’t want anything to do with him. Perhaps the sketchbook was just part of the treatment, nothing more. He clearly had more important things to do than make friends with Eliott. Eliott blinked and shook himself, dropping his hands to his sides. Of course it was just for the treatment. How could he think Lucas liked him? He was Eliott’s doctor. Nothing more. 

 

* * *

 

_01:32_ the clock on Eliott’s nightstand blinked mockingly. Hours later, he looked again. _01:56_. He groaned into his pillow. The oppressive heat of the night weighed down on his legs where he had kicked off the blankets, desperately pushing his toes out to find a cooler patch of the bed sheet beneath him. He had been in bed for hours, unable to sleep, his mind roving restlessly, replaying the events of this afternoon countless times. He had been thinking of his parents as well - for the first time since arriving, he resented the ward’s “no visitors” policy. He missed them.  
Rolling over, he stared at the ceiling above him, willing sleep to come, yet knowing it wouldn’t. He had tried counting sheep. He had considered drawing, but couldn’t bring himself to pick up Lucas’ sketchbook again. He had recited stories in his head until the words lost their meanings. And he still couldn’t sleep.

With a sigh, he pushed himself up from the bed, glancing out of the window, where distant stars twinkled down at him, mocking him with their cool, serene existence. He contemplated jumping out, flying up to live among them, in the cool, dark, sky, sleeping for eternity.  
He looked away.

The open window did nothing to alleviate airlessness of the room, and it was hot, too hot, he could barely breathe. Eventually, he couldn’t stand it any more, pushing his door open silently and slipping into the corridor outside in search of air. It was cooler out here, and for a moment Eliott stood still, resting with his back against the bedroom door, closing his eyes. The ward was much quieter now, the hubbub of this morning having died down before evening, and the only sound was the subdued whirring of oxygen machines and heart monitors in distant rooms. It was dark, all patients having gone to bed long ago, and Eliott revelled in a slight feeling of rebelliousness as he lingered outside his room, enjoying the illicitness of the act. Gradually, however, he became aware of a very slight shuffling sound, and cracked open an eye to search down the corridor for the source of the noise. Right at the end, a door was slightly ajar, a faint light spilling out from underneath it. Eliott frowned, then realised it must be one of the offices - he remembered Lucas telling him when he first arrived that there would be always be a doctor on night duty, in case of emergencies. Still curious, he stood up off the door and silently moved towards the light, some irrepressible force drawing him towards it. His instincts told him to go back to his room, to get back inside before he got caught wandering out after curfew, but something else told him to keep going. And he did.  
As he reached the doorway, the noise of shuffling papers stopped, and he heard the almost imperceptible, but unmistakable sound of a sigh. Pressing himself against the wall, he peered through the open crack of the doorway, keeping himself hidden in a shadowy alcove. And through the small gap, sat at a cluttered wooden desk, head held in his hands, was Lucas. Eliott couldn’t help his heartbeat quickening as he saw the younger man, despite the trepidation that he felt at the sight of him after their encounter in the afternoon. He couldn’t see Lucas’ face where it was dropped into his hands, but noticed the tightness of his shoulders, and the tense grip of his fingers in his hair. He was clearly stressed, and whatever the reason, it wasn’t a good time for Eliott to be caught creeping out of bed, he decided, resolving to silently slip back into his room without disturbing the doctor.  
He began to inch back along the wall blindly, momentarily forgetting that he was tucked into the alcove of the doorway. With a considerable _thunk_ his toe collided with the corner of the door frame, closer than expected.

“Putain!”

He let out the curse without thinking, a stinging pain shooting up from his toe. Immediately afterwards he bit down, hard, on his tongue, holding his breath as he silently berated himself for betraying his presence. 

“Hello?”

Lucas’ voice was surprised as it called out into the darkness, and Eliott momentarily considered staying hidden, hoping Lucas wouldn’t notice him. But, when Lucas repeated the call, he had no choice but to come forwards, sheepishly stepping into the dim light of Lucas’ office. He noticed stacks upon stacks of files filling the walls, a flip chart of diagrams stood behind the desk. An armchair and small table were tucked into the corner. 

“Eliott? What are you doing?”  
“Sorry - I was - I was just walking, I didn’t mean to disturb you - I’ll go back -”  
Eliott garbled excuses, hardly aware of what he was saying, too caught up in the sheer exhaustion evident in Lucas’ posture, juxtaposing the strength of his eyes on Eliott. He began to move back out of the doorway.

“I’ll just - going, I’m going.”  
“Wait!” 

Eliott was shocked by the sudden urgency in Lucas voice.

“Wait - I mean - did you need something?”

He had removed his head from his hands, and was looking at Eliott, wide-eyed. His posture was one of defence, yet his eyes, dull blue in the half-light, were betraying something akin to desperation. Was it anger? Stress? Loneliness? Eliott couldn’t tell.

“No - I just uh, couldn’t sleep. So I was walking.” He explained, not wanting to risk inciting Lucas’ annoyance again. “And you? You’re - alright?” He practically stuttered, hating himself for the weakness in his voice yet feeling as though he had to ask.  
Lucas sighed.

“I’ve been better.” He admitted, slouching into his chair as he exhaled, eyes still trained on Eliott. The aching tiredness of his voice gave Eliott courage, and he stepped further through the door, leaning against a cabinet across the room from Lucas.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Lucas pushed a hand through his hair, the brown locks falling down haphazardly against his head. Eliott itched to run his hands through them, to put them back into place.

“It’s just...it hasn’t been a great day. There’s a lot they don’t tell you - about being a doctor. And I knew - I know it’s not always going to be easy, and sometimes things go wrong but I just -” He broke off, running his hand through his hair again in an image of despair. “One of my patients today, had a heart spasm, she’s gone into a coma…” _So that was what all the commotion was for earlier._ “They’ve transferred her to an emergency ward and I just - I could have prevented it, you know? If I’d paid more attention to the signs, if I’d been a better doctor I could have prevented it! But now, they’re not even sure if she’ll fully recover, but this is _supposed_ to be a recovery ward, this is where the patients get better, not _worse._ I should’ve, I should’ve done something.”

His voice was reaching a panicked pitch as his hands roved restlessly through his hair, tugging at the ends as he closed his eyes in frustration and dropped his head into his hands again. Eliott’s heart broke for him, and without thinking, he crossed the room and found himself beside Lucas’ chair. Tentatively, he let his hand come down on the doctor’s tense shoulder, squeezing it lightly as he spoke. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You can’t save everyone. Sometimes things like that, they just happen, you can’t stop them. 

He felt Lucas’ body quiver slightly beneath his hand as he inhaled and exhaled heavily, sitting up again to look at Eliott.

“I know, I just - “ He smiled sheepishly at Eliott. “It’s hard. Sorry. And sorry - for being so short with you earlier. It wasn’t your fault.”  
Eliott smiled, relieved to know that Lucas didn’t, in fact, hate him. He manoeuvred himself around to sit on the edge of the desk, next to Lucas’ chair but facing the opposite way.

“Don’t worry about it. I get told I’m in the way all the time.”

Lucas chuckled as Eliott nudged him lightly with his elbow, and they lapsed into silence until Lucas asked:

“And you? Are you alright? In the hospital, I mean.”  
“I’m alright. Physically, at least, I’m healing.”  
Lucas nodded.  
“And mentally? I’ve seen you with Arthur a few times, you’re making friends?”  
Eliott nodded this time, smiling down at Lucas beside him and swinging his legs slightly where they were hanging off the edge of the desk.

“Yeah, he’s cool. I’m making friends. And I think,” He took a breath to steady himself, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. _Could he say it?_  
“I think, I’m falling for someone.” His senses felt hyper-sensitive as he risked a glance down at Lucas, seeing him gazing up in shock, his lips slightly parted as he tried to think of a reply. Eliott longed to reach down and trace those lips with his fingers, to feel the soft curves beneath his fingertips, to feel the heat of Lucas’ breath between them. A faint blush crept across his cheekbones, and Eliott had to fight not to reach out and trace it along his cheeks. A moment later, Lucas cleared his throat self-consciously and spoke again, but a new tension seemed to thicken the air around them and Eliott struggled to focus. 

“And - and the treatment? The medication is all, uh, all okay?”

“It’s fine.” He swallowed. _Now or never._ “Lucas, I -”

“Do you need some sleeping pills?” Lucas asked abruptly, standing up suddenly from his seat and stepping quickly over to a small medicine cabinet. Eliott watched him open it, his fingers shaking slightly as he undid the catch. “You said you couldn’t sleep, I can give you something for that, we’ve got uh...we’ve, um, got…um...” His voice trailed off as Eliott stood up and closed the space between them, looking down at Lucas as he fumbled with a bottle of pills. Time seemed to slow as he lifted his head to meet Eliott’s eyes. Eliott noticed the way his eyelashes quivered as he looked up, the way the pale skin of his throat contracted as his breath hitched. And his lips, fuck, his lips. Eliott swallowed.

“I don’t - I don’t need sleeping pills, Lucas.”

He reached out without breaking eye contact, tugging the bottle of pills from Lucas' loose grip. He paused.

“What do you need?” Lucas’ voice was barely even a whisper, no louder than the sound of their breaths falling between them, their chests rising and falling in sync as they stood, barely a foot between them.

Eliott gulped, then released a shaky breath of laughter, shaking his head minutely. _Now or never,_ he thought again.

“You, Lucas - I need you.” He barely managed to choke the words out, each syllable catching in his throat as he struggled to maintain Lucas’ gaze. He watched Lucas’ eyes widen, his pupils large and dark, eclipsing the rings of blue around them. Eliott tensed, waiting for a rebuffal, waiting for Lucas to laugh, to step back, to push him away, anything, anything other than this silence that weighed down and surrounded them, wrapping around his chest and constricting his lungs. 

Lucas’ forehead cleared, and his mouth resolved into the smallest of smiles. Before Eliott could register the change, his breath was knocked out of his body by a pair of lips surging up to meet his. _Lucas, Lucas’ lips, Lucas was kissing him, kissing him, kissing him, kissing him._ He barely had time to feel surprised before his body was responding of its own accord, kissing Lucas back, catching his soft lips between his own, swallowing the breaths falling from Lucas’ mouth. Distantly, he heard the pill bottle fall to the floor as his hands rushed up to hold Lucas’ face, one on his cheek and the other resting against his neck, feeling the warm skin move beneath it. He felt Lucas’ own hands move up to caress his back, biting back a moan as he tangled his fingers through Eliott’s hair, tugging gently. The world faded away as Lucas tilted his head up to deepen the kiss, and Eliott parted his lips, inviting him in as the sound of a relieved laugh filled his ears, all his senses overcome with _Lucas Lucas Lucas Lucas Lucas._

_“Lucas,”_ He breathed into the other man’s mouth, pushing the name into the tangle of their tongues.  
_“Eliott,”_ Lucas replied, and Eliott couldn’t stop the small moan that escaped him at the sound of his voice, his throat vibrating beneath Eliott’s hands. _“Eliott,”_ Lucas pulled at his hair again, burying his fingers in the tangled strands.  
_“Lucas,”_ He bit down gently on Lucas' bottom lip, running his tongue over it afterwards. Lucas shuddered beneath him.  
_“Lucas,”_ His hands moved around Lucas’ neck, falling down to caress his chest, his waist.  
_“Lucas,”_ It was the only word that existed, the only word worth saying. What was the point in letters, if they didn’t spell _Lucas_? What was the point in voices, if they weren’t calling _Lucas_?

He let his arms fall down, brushing the backs of Lucas’ thighs, breaking the kiss long enough to whisper, “Jump.” He felt, rather than saw, Lucas’ frown of confusion, and pulled away a fraction of a centimetre. “Jump. Just trust me.” All but groaning at the loss of contact, he desperately reaching out to lock lips again, their mouths colliding like drowning men gasping for air. Lucas hesitated, then jumped up, Eliott immediately moving his hands to grab his thighs and wrap them around his own waist, moving backwards towards the desk without breaking the kiss. A desperate murmur fell from Lucas’ lips as Eliott held him by the thighs, blindly pushing papers and pens off the desk to deposit him on top of it. He scrabbled around to make space among the junk on the desk, then moved between his legs to get closer, closer, closer, his knees tightening around Eliott’s waist and pulling him in. Lucas’ face was higher at this new angle, and Eliott tilted his head up to meet it, unable to contain his gasp as Lucas rejoined their lips, pushing deeper into Eliott’s mouth, exploring every corner with a new found confidence. Eliott let his hand drift to the bottom of Lucas’ shirt, brushing along the hem before slipping a single finger beneath it, stroking the warm skin he found there.

“Is this okay?” He managed to gasp out, moving his hand further up as Lucas nodded desperately. The feeling of his smooth skin beneath Eliott's hands was overwhelming, sending waves of warmth throughout his body.

“This is okay.” Lucas replied, tugging Eliott closer by the neck.  
“This is okay.” He breathed, a shiver running through him as Eliott ran his hand up his spin, rucking up the fabric of his shirt as he caressed the soft expanse of his back.  
“This is okay” He repeated, digging his fingers further into Eliott’s hair.

 

_This is more than okay,_ thought Eliott. He cradled Lucas’ face between his hands, and kissed him until the room went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since we have to undergo the trauma of skamfr ending today, i thought i'd cheer myself up by writing this scene before we have to say goodbye to our beloved boys (and queen imane) forever :((((((((((
> 
>  
> 
> kudos and comments always appreciated!  
> tumblr: @papparadise


	7. vii

“You know I’ll get fired, right? If anyone finds us?”

Eliott kissed Lucas’ nose.

“Probably.”

Kissed his eyebrow, his cheek.

“7 years of training, all for nothing.”

Eliott nipped his earlobe gently. Kissed his jaw.

“What can I say? I like a rebel.” He murmured against Lucas’ throat, the soft skin vibrating beneath his lips as Lucas laughed. 

“I might even get arrested, for taking advantage of a patient.”

Eliott kissed his collarbone. Ghosted up his neck.

“Taking advantage of an invalid, Lucas, how could you?” 

Sucked gently at the base of his jaw. Felt Lucas’ breath catch in his throat.

“It’d be worth it though.” 

Lucas dipped down to catch Eliott’s lips between his own, and words fell away.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think in another life, I wouldn’t have been your doctor? We’d have, I don’t know, met in high school, or something?”

“Another life? Like, a different universe, you mean?”

Eliott ran his hand up Lucas’ arm, letting his finger dip down to stroke his collarbone when it reached the top. They had long since abandoned the desk, opting to curl up in the armchair in the corner of the office, Lucas half in Eliott’s lap, legs tangled together. The single seat wasn’t quite big enough for both of them and their legs were bent around each other clumsily, but Eliott couldn’t bring himself to care. If anything, he appreciated the excuse to hold Lucas closer against him.

“Ouais, a parallel universe. Don’t you believe in those?”

Eliott thought for a moment, idly drawing circles against the skin of Lucas’ shoulder where his t-shirt had slipped down. Lucas was looking up at him expectantly, wide-eyed, and Eliott found himself nodding. 

“I guess? I’ve never really thought about it. But I suppose they must exist, somewhere in eternity.”

Lucas murmured contentedly in agreement, curling closer into Eliott’s side as he reached a hand up to draw a line along the underside of his jaw.

“I think they do. I like to think there are infinite numbers of Lucases somewhere out there, taking all the paths I didn’t take, living their own lives, every universe different.”

“Which universe would you want to be in right now?”

Lucas grinned from where he was nestled into Eliott’s chest, tilting his head up.

“This one, right here.”

Eliott didn’t even try to fight the grin breaking out across his own face, reaching down to brush against Lucas’ lips slowly. Their mouths moved against each other in unison, neither taking the lead, both content to simply kiss, and kiss, and kiss. 

A while later, they both settled down against each other again, slightly breathless, lips heavy and swollen. Lucas had one hand in Eliott’s hair, stroking gently, the other resting in the space where his neck met his shoulder. Eliott sighed.

“Do you think there’s a parallel universe where I’m not so fucked up?” He asked, before he could stop himself. Lucas’ hand stilled in his hair. Unwilling to meet his eyes, Eliott shifted slightly, staring across the darkened room at a distant monitor where a green light blinked dolefully. 

“You’re not - you’re not _fucked up_ , Eliott.”

He sat up as best he could in the small space, taking Eliott’s cheek in his hand and tugging his face around.

“Eliott, look at me! You’re not _fucked up_ , okay? Don’t say that. You’re not some kind of human failure, or defect, or something. You just happen to have bipolar disorder. It’s not - that doesn’t make you a fuck up, Eliott.”

Reluctantly, Eliott allowed Lucas to pull his face down to meet his gaze. He was startled to find such determination in the younger man’s face, certainty and conviction pouring out of his steely blue eyes.

“Eliott, please. Don’t say stuff like that. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing, okay?”

He brought his other hand up to accentuate this last point, cradling Eliott’s cheeks between both hands as if it was something precious. In spite of himself, Eliott couldn’t help leaning into the touch. His eyes fluttered closed as Lucas caressed his face, warm fingers splayed across his cheekbones, thumbs stroking the corners of his mouth gently. 

“You’re perfect the way you are, Eliott. Don’t forget that, okay?”

Eliott flickered his eyes open again, lips curving upwards into a smile at Lucas’ words. He didn’t really believe them, not yet, but he appreciated the sentiment. 

“Okay.” He whispered into the rapidly shrinking space between their lips, Lucas already drawing his face down for another kiss.  


_I could get used to this_ , he thought dimly, as their lips connected again.

 

* * *

 

Sunlight was already streaming through the window when Eliott opened his eyes hours later, illuminating the chaos of crumpled papers and scattered pens on Lucas’ desk.  
_Oops._  
He raised his head up from where it was resting against the back of the chair, wincing at the ache shooting up his neck - in hindsight, an armchair probably wasn’t the best place to spend the night. Lucas was still curled into his lap, head resting against his shoulder, and from the steady rise and fall of his chest Eliott could tell he was still asleep. He allowed himself to enjoy the weight of the sleepy body pressed against his for a few moments, then reluctantly began extricating himself from the other man’s grip, shifting his limbs slowly to avoid waking him. He’d give anything to spend the whole day here, tangled into Lucas’ warm arms, but he knew he couldn’t. Lucas was right - he’d be fired on the spot if anyone found them. 

Once he had successfully removed himself from the chair, he made his way over to the desk, where a blinking clock told him it was 5:08 am. He really had to get back to his room before the morning rounds started. Yet as he looked back at Lucas, it took all his willpower not to crawl back into his loose arms. Something inside him stirred at the sight of the long limbs and tousled hair nestled in the armchair, and he almost pinched himself to check if it was real. But the creases in his clothes and the crick in his neck were real enough, as was the redness of Lucas’ lips as he slept, still swollen from kisses. Lucas snuffled slightly in his sleep and shifted his head against the arm of the chair, sending a pang of protectiveness through Eliott’s chest. He couldn’t bear to leave him there, alone, curled up into himself in a chair that suddenly seemed too big for one. Eliott faltered, then grinned as an idea occurred to him, grabbing a pen from Lucas’ desk and making his way back to his own room. Once there, he worked quickly, retrieving the sketchbook from beneath his pillow and tearing a page out. The lines seemed to draw themselves as he touched pen to paper, the unmistakable features of a hedgehog forming beneath his fingers. The armchair was trickier to draw without reference, but he managed it, finishing off the drawing with a tiny love heart and a line of writing across the bottom. Pausing outside his room to check for any nurses on their rounds, he slipped back down the corridor to Lucas’ office where the younger man was still sleeping. _Adorable_ , sprang into Eliott’s mind as he approached, gently reaching out a hand to rearrange Lucas t-shirt where it had ridden up over his hip. He leaned down to brush the lightest of kisses against Lucas’ forehead before placing the drawing where he’d be sure to find it, then slipped out of the room again.

 

_T’es beau quand tu dors <3_

 

* * *

 

By the time Daphne arrived to bring Eliott breakfast, he was back in his own bed, with nothing to indicate his absence throughout the rest of the night. She left him alone to eat, first setting out his morning medication to take, promising to return later to take away the tray of breakfast things. Eliott ate slowly, still pleasantly exhausted from his lack of sleep, staying in bed after eating to idly flick through a book on his nightstand. He couldn’t have concentrated on the story even if he’d wanted to, his mind continually straying back to remember another tiny detail of the night’s events. The feeling of Lucas’ hair between his fingers. The sound of Lucas’ breath growing quicker as Eliott brushed lips against his neck. The sight of Lucas this morning, curled up and bathed in the glow of the early morning sun. Had he found the drawing? Eliott couldn’t help wondering. _Would he even like it? Was it too much?_  
He was dimly aware of the door opening as he sat deep in thought, a finger poised above the page of the book he’d given up on trying to read. He didn’t bother looking up - it was probably Daphne again, collecting his tray - barely registering the sound of footsteps approaching his bed as he lost himself in his thoughts. Only when his bed dipped down beside him did he pull himself from his reveries and look round - starting in surprise at the pair of bright blue eyes he found suddenly close to his face. Lucas grinned as he met Eliott’s startled gaze, cocking his head slightly as he moved an inch closer.

“I missed you.” He said against Eliott’s lips, his breath ghosting over Eliott’s half open mouth before catching his lips in a searing kiss. Eliott recovered from his surprise quickly, angling his body towards Lucas where he was perched on the edge of the bed, bringing his hand up to bury it in his untamable hair and pull him deeper into the kiss. He felt Lucas laugh against his mouth, and pulled away again, dropping once last peck against his lips before sitting back, matching grins adorning both their faces. 

“I missed you too.” He replied, noticing with delight the subtle blush that was spreading prettily across Lucas’ cheeks. Unable to resist, he leaned forwards again to kiss it softly, dropping his lips repeatedly against the curves of Lucas’ cheekbones until the younger man pushed at his chest laughingly, forcing him to settle back against the headboard of the bed. Eliott pouted in response, earning a laugh from Lucas. 

“Patience, Eliott, patience. This - as much as I love it - isn’t what I came here for.”

“What could you possibly have to do that’s more important than letting me kiss you?”

Lucas laughed again at Eliott’s petulant tone, granting him one small kiss on the tip of his nose before he moved away again.

“First of all, to thank you for the drawing. Though, I don't know what makes you think I look like a hedgehog." Eliott said nothing, but grinned and tugged a hand through Lucas' hair as he continued talking.

"And second of all, I am actually your doctor, Eliott, I have a job to do. And as far as I can recall, kissing wasn’t mentioned in your treatment plan…”

“Well, maybe the treatment plan needs revising.” Eliott replied with a flick of his eyebrows, his heart fluttering slightly when Lucas’ grinned bashfully in response.

“Maybe it does...but for now, I’m here to give you some new meds. Your body seems to have mostly recovered so we’re bringing you off the anti-inflammatories, but we thought we’d try you on Lithium, see how it goes. It’s a mood-stabiliser, and should help to...well, to stabilise your mood.” He tailed off slightly sheepishly, drawing an orange bottle of round white pills out of his pocket. Eliott glanced away, hoping Lucas wouldn’t spot his distaste. It’s not that he didn’t want the medicine - deep down he knew it was important, and might help him - it just filled him with such an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. He hated it. He hated knowing that he had to rely on the little white capsules in order to be _normal_ , in order for his moods to be _stable_ , like everyone else’s were anyway. It made him feel weak, broken, dependant. 

“Hey - ”

Lucas drew a finger under Eliott’s chin, drawing his face up again to gaze searchingly into his eyes.

“This’ll just be a trial run, if it doesn’t work for you we’ll try something else, okay?” He smiled reassuringly, letting his fingers graze against the edges of Eliott’s jaw. Shifting closer on the bed, Lucas unscrewed the cap of the bottle in his hands, shaking two pills into his palm before retrieving a glass of water from Eliott’s night stand. Without breaking eye contact, he slipped the pills between Eliott’s lips, immediately following it with the water, gently brushing at a stray drop that dripped from Eliott’s mouth as he drank. The feeling of Lucas’ soft fingers running across his lips was so overwhelming that Eliott was hardly aware of himself swallowing, the pills slipping down unnoticed as Lucas traced the outline of his mouth. With a lump in his throat that had absolutely nothing to do with the medication, Eliott leaned forwards again, almost shuddering as Lucas’ lips replaced his fingers, his warm tongue licking into where Eliott’s mouth was still cool from the water. Far too soon, Lucas pulled away breathlessly, leaning his forehead against Eliott’s and smiling ruefully. 

“I hate to say this, but I really do have other patients to see.”  
Eliott was about to protest, reaching out a hand to pull Lucas down closer again, when the door opened suddenly, prompting Lucas to fly off the bed with impressive speed. He swung his legs over the edge to stand up, only stumbling slightly as he found his footing - and not a moment too soon. 

“Eliott! I’m so sorry, I meant to come back for your tray ages ago, but I got caught - ah, good morning, Doctor Lallemant! Didn’t expect to see you on the ward today!”

The sound of Daphne’s voice was almost painfully bright, and Eliott watched as Lucas wavered and stuttered, badly hiding his surprise. Eliott noticed him trying to surreptitiously straighten his coat and held back a laugh, pleased to note that Lucas’ hair was even more mussed than usual. 

“I - uh, yes! Um, I’m on the ward today, Daphne, yes. Uh -” He faltered for a moment, evidently realising he needed a better explanation.

“I was just, uh, giving Eliott his new medication. We’ve just transferred him onto Lithium so I thought, ah, I thought I should explain it all - to him.” He garbled the sentences out, making sure Daphne wasn’t looking before shooting daggers at Eliott as he tried not to giggle. 

“Oh! I wasn’t aware. Well, anyway. I was just coming in to pick up his breakfast tray.” She continued smiling brightly, apparently oblivious to Lucas’ embarrassment, and picked up the tray from beside the bed before making her way back out of the room.

“Tray - yes, yes, the tray, well done, thank you, Daphne…for the...tray” Lucas trailed off as Daphne shut the door behind her, slumping against the wall as Eliott burst into laughter.

“Just _explaining the medication_ , were you Doctor?” He teased, ignoring Lucas’ red-faced glare. “I seem to recall a lot more _demonstration_ than explanation.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively, earning another glare.

“Fuck you.” Lucas retorted crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, gladly, Doctor, gladly.” Eliott laughed again at Lucas’ embarrassment, then vaulted out of the bed to reach him, gently tugging at the lapel of his white coat until Lucas looked up at him, his hard gaze instantly softening. Eliott dipped his head down to nose across Lucas’ cheek, then brushed their mouths together, his lips lingering sweetly against Lucas’ until he pulled away again with a mischievous grin.

“Now go see your other patients - and try not to get distracted _explaining the medication_ to any of them!”

He kissed away the eye roll Lucas gave, then gave him a gentle push towards the door, laughing as the doctor flipped him off just once before slipping out into the corridor.

 

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur, Eliott’s attention switching between fighting off the drowsiness caused by his new medication, and wondering when he would next see Lucas. They had to be careful, not wanting to risk almost getting caught again, and yet Eliott couldn’t help but break into a smile whenever he saw Lucas across the room in group therapy, or give him a wink if they passed each other in the corridor. It was frustrating, but exhilarating. Eliott couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so _alive._  
He had tried to hide it from Arthur as well, but it had proved entirely impossible. He had noticed almost immediately, giving Eliott a suspicious look that he had come to realise was almost a permanent fixture on Arthur’s face. 

“Eliott.”

“Mmm?”

“You’re suspiciously happy this morning.”

And Eliott had feigned innocence for as long as possible, pointedly not meeting Arthur’s gaze. 

“Aren’t I allowed to be cheerful?” He had asked, responding to Arthur’s eyebrow raise with an innocent smile.

“Certainly, you’re allowed to be cheerful. But I’ve been jigging my leg for the last ten minutes and you haven’t told me off once, when normally you’d be punching me in the knee by now to make me stop.” - it was true, Arthur had an awful habit of jiggling his leg when he was anxious, which normally drove Eliott nuts - “That’s not just cheerful, that’s distractedly happy.” 

“What, you want me to punch you? Cause I’m more than happy to, let me just -” Eliott had reached out an arm eagerly, grinning cheekily at Arthur’s disapproving glare. And he had almost, _almost,_ got away with it, successfully distracting Arthur and deflecting his questions with a joking thump at his leg - until Lucas had chosen that moment to walk in the door of the common room. And Eliott hadn’t even noticed himself freezing in place to watch Lucas walk through, oblivious, a smile growing unbidden across his lips until he was brought back to reality by a poke from Arthur.

“No. I do _not_ believe it. You’re not -” Eliott had only been able to duck his head sheepishly as Arthur gaped at him, not quite meeting his gaze.

 _“Do you mean to tell me you got with Doctor fucking Lallement?”_ Arthur had hissed, realisation dawning on his face as he watched Eliott writhe under his scrutiny.

“You actual - you little shit!” And then he’d laughed, and hooked an arm around Eliott’s neck and ruffled Eliott’s hair with his fist. “You did, didn’t you! You actually did! That’s why you’re so happy!” And Eliott hadn’t confirmed it, but hadn’t been able to deny it either, only blushing furiously as Arthur stared at him in shock and - was that...pride?

And Arthur was right, Eliott realised that evening. He was happy. _Truly_ happy. Happier and freer than he had in weeks - months, even. So when Daphne dropped off his evening dose of medication, he had held it in the palm of his hands for several minutes, staring at it in annoyance. He was _happy_. He felt good. He didn’t need medication to make him feel better - what was the point in tiny, flimsy pills, when he had Lucas to bring him joy? Lucas, who made him feel better than any medicine ever could. And besides, so far the medication had only made him drowsy and heavy headed - if anything, he felt worse when he took it, not better. And Lucas had said this treatment was about independence, right? So really, it was up to him whether he took the medication or not. 

Eliott stared at the pills in his hand for a moment longer, then quietly opened his bedroom window, and let them drop to the floor of the courtyard below. A single pigeon watched him with a beady yellow eye, then ruffled its feathers and flew away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo i was gonna bring the angst into this chapter BUT then i was enjoying the fluff too much so....the angst can wait.
> 
> will probably be a slightly longer wait until the next update, because a) time is an illusion, and b) got two big exams next week so i should probably be working lmao 
> 
> thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! let me know what you think <3333
> 
> tumblr: @papparadise


	8. viii

The tangled white phone cord swung down by Eliott’s hip as he pressed the receiver to his ear, his fingers running nervously against his mouth. Having been on the ward for three weeks now, he had been allowed to call his parents, although they still couldn’t visit. Talking to them was difficult, though. He missed them, and they had so much to say, and yet he couldn’t settle on what to tell them. Did they want to hear that he was happy in the hospital? Or would that sound odd? Should he say he wanted to go home? Or would that be worse, because then they’d worry? It’s not like he still lived with them, he was an adult - so why did he feel like a high schooler, worrying about showing his parents his latest report card? The whole conversation was just strange, neither he nor his parents knowing what to say. His mother’s voice on the other end was garbled, sounding tinny and distant. She had been crying when she first picked up, but had calmed down now, asking Eliott about his routine and recovery plan. His father was there too apparently, occasionally butting in to add to one of his mother’s questions, but mostly staying quiet. Eliott wished they’d both be quiet, wished they’d stop the incessant asking. The questions overwhelmed him, piling up on top of each other, each one fighting for an answer he didn’t know how to give. Was the hospital comfortable? Was the treatment okay? Had he made any friends? Did he feel better? The only slight consolation was that they never once alluded to the reason he was here in the first place - whether by their own instinct or on the advice of a doctor Eliott couldn’t tell, but nevertheless he was grateful that they avoided the subject.  
He fiddled nervously with the old-fashioned phone cord, unable to keep his fingers still. His whole body felt jittery and anxious, and he squeezed his eyes shut in the effort of staying still to respond to his mother’s questions, barely aware of what he was saying, just hoping it was something, _anything_ good enough to stop her asking. Eventually, the conversation petered out. He coughed. His mother sniffed, his father mumbled something indecipherable. His mother cleared her throat shakily. 

“Alright darling, well, we’d better go now, we don’t want to keep you.”

Eliott nodded despite the fact they couldn’t see him, shifting from foot to foot as he mumbled his own goodbye, promising to eat well and get enough sleep and a million other things he didn’t pay attention to. 

“Okay, well. Goodbye then, Eliott. We love you.”

He hung up the phone with probably slightly more force than was necessary. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his parents - he did - but they could be so overbearing, hardly giving him space to breathe as they stacked their questions against him. His head felt stretched by the thoughts whirling in it, and he shook it vigorously, as if he could shake out the questions and comments. It made him dizzy, so he did it again. He enjoyed the dizzy, woozy, which-way-is-up-? feeling. It was like falling and rising and going round in circles all at once. Like that game they used to play - he and Idriss, back in ecole primaire. They would stand, arms outstretched, and spin, and spin, and spin, until the world tipped and tilted bizarrely and trees blurred into sky and they fell, laughing, into a heap on the grass. 

The memory of it made Eliott smile, and then he remembered Idriss and it made him stop smiling, and then he shook his head into dizziness again because being dizzy was better than smiling and not smiling and _thinking._

When Daphne came that evening, two round white capsules nestled in her palm, Eliott smiled again and drank the water she offered. When she left, the pills were calmly added to the slowly growing pile in the drawer of his bedside table. And Eliott lay in his bed and shook his head from side to side until the walls disappeared and black stars clouded his eyes.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Eliott woke early, swallowing his breakfast down before making his way down the corridor. Lucas had been occupied doing training assessments in another part of the hospital for the past couple of days, but he had assured Eliott he would be back on the ward by now. Eliott had done his best to wait patiently, but was aching to see Lucas again, and struggled to keep his step steady as he went down the corridor. As he reached the end, the same intern from the night in the garden appeared around a corner, and Eliott gave him an innocent smile, hovering by the door to the common room until he was out of sight, then leapt across the corridor to Lucas’ office. Without knocking, he eased the door open, holding his breath as it swung on smooth hinges to reveal Lucas, standing against the edge of his desk. He was frowning at a paper in his hands, but looked up as the door opened, breaking into a radiant smile as he saw Eliott ducking into the room. 

“Eliott! What are you doing here? This is early.”

The doctor laughed as Eliott bounded across the room, falling against him with a chuckle that sent fireworks through Eliott’s stomach. He took Lucas’ body between his forearms as Lucas snaked his arms around his neck, gazing up at him with a bright smile. Eliott giggled at the sight of him so open and wanting, his eyelashes hooded and lips parted in readiness for a kiss. Instead of granting him one straight away, Eliott swerved his head round and planted a kiss on his warm cheek, then ducked down to nip at his jaw as Lucas laughed and writhed beneath him, catching at Eliott’s hair to pull his head back up. 

“Hey - hey, stop, stop!”

Lucas giggled and squirmed under Eliott’s lips as he attacked a particularly ticklish section of his neck. He eventually relented, lifting his head back up to look into Lucas’ eyes with a laugh.

“Good morning.” He whispered against Lucas’ lips, still not kissing him just yet, enjoying the heat of their mingled breath between their mouths. He rubbed the tips of their noses together gently.

“Good morning.” Lucas agreed, barely having time to breathe the words out before Eliott was pressing their lips together. Lucas' hand flew up to bury itself in his hair, and Eliott responded eagerly, slipping his hands inside Lucas’ white coat and backing him up against the desk, caging him in between his arms. Lucas laughed and broke the kiss, shoving lightly at Eliott’s chest.

“Steady, steady, anyone could walk in right now.”

“Don’t care.” Eliott mumbled in reply, trying to push his lips into Lucas’ neck again. Did it matter if anyone walked in? Did anything matter as long as he had Lucas in his arms, against his chest, against his mouth? How could anything else _matter_ when they were like this?

“I really can’t afford to get fired, Eliott.” Lucas pushed at his chest, chuckling at the sight of Eliott’s disgruntled face and tangled hair. He tucked a lock behind his ear, moving closer to whisper into it.

“I’m on the night shift later though. Come find me.”

Eliott grinned in response, then moved away to sit on the desk beside where Lucas was standing, jigging his feet where they swung beneath him. He watched as Lucas moved around the room, sorting some files and checking a computer, looking up every few seconds to grin at Eliott bashfully. After a while he paused in the act of filing some papers, glancing over to Eliott with a furrowed brow.

“Don’t you have group therapy this morning? It’s tuesday.”

Eliott shrugged and laughed, waggling his head at Lucas.

“So? I can miss it once can’t I? Even if it is tuuuuuuesday.” He drew out the vowels of the word, tipping his head at Lucas as he mimicked his voice. It sounded funny, so he said again.

“Tuuueeeesday. I did go last tuesday, and the one before that! Arthur won’t miss me, he’s too busy trying to get the attention of that new girl,” Eliott bobbed his head, trying to remember her name. “New girl, new girl, new girl...Alexia! He’ll be talking to Alexia.” He smiled happily, proud at having remembered her name. Lucas had moved closer, furrowy lines appearing on his forehead. Eliott grabbed him by the sleeve, pulling him in so he was stood between his legs where they hung off the edge of the desk.

 _Wibbly wobbly,_ he thought, tracing the lines of Lucas’ forehead with his finger to erase them, smoothing the skin down before pressing a kiss into it. Lucas gave him a funny look and he realised he might have said the wibbly wobbly bit out loud but it didn’t matter, Lucas _was_ wibbly wobbly after all, but it was okay because he could kiss away the frowny lines, he could kiss any bit of Lucas’ face that he liked - so he did. He kissed it and kissed it and kissed it and when he pulled away he smiled at Lucas but Lucas was making a serious face so Eliott made his face very serious too, drooping his mouth and squinting his eyes. And Lucas gave him another look but Eliott couldn’t understand that one so he couldn’t mimic it, but he kissed Lucas instead and this time Lucas kissed back so _really_ , did anything else matter? 

Lucas pulled away again - too soon, Eliott thought - and moved around to the other side of the desk, rummaging in the drawer before pulling out a thick blue cuff attached to some wires, grabbing his stethoscope from his breast pocket as he did so. Elliot watched with interest as he checked the cuff, then moved back over to stand in between his legs.

“If you’re not going to group therapy, will you at least let me check your blood pressure?”

Eliott nodded, never wanting to refuse the opportunity of feeling Lucas’ hand close around his bicep to secure the cuff in place. The doctor strapped it over firmly, squeezing an air bulb to inflate the cuff before pressing the pad of his stethoscope against Eliott’s skin. His pink tongue poked out adorably between his lips as he concentrated on listening to the pulse, and Eliott couldn’t tear his eyes away, fidgeting his hands in his lap as he fought the urge to pull Lucas closer and kiss him again. He barely noticed as Lucas removed the cuff and hooked his stethoscope around his neck, only blinking back to awareness as the doctor placed a hand on his chin to pull his face up.

“Eliott? I hate to ask this, but I need you to tell me, okay?” He gazed searchingly into Eliott’s eyes, drowning them in deep blue. “Have you been taking your meds?”

Eliott stared back, fixated on a tiny tremor that pulsated the skin beneath Lucas’ right eye. It was the smallest of twitches, barely noticeable, but Eliott wanted to reach out and stroke it, feel the thin skin beneath his fingertips.

“Eliott? You’ve been taking the Lithium?”

Eliott flicked his eyes up as Lucas called his name again, asking something. What was he asking? They were always asking. Someone was always asking _something_ , always wanting Eliott to say things, to do things, things he didn’t need to do or say. Eliott gazed at Lucas’ open face, wide-eyed and trusting, and felt his heart soar as he drowned in those beautiful eyes. Lucas was _so_ beautiful, why would he need meds when he had Lucas being so beautiful? _This_ was all he needed, and so - 

“Yes.” He replied, scrunching his nose at Lucas. The doctor stared at him for a moment longer, then nodded and stepped away.

“Okay, I trust you.”

Eliott felt the slightest pang of guilt, but it was quickly overridden by a feeling of joy, because _Lucas trusted him_. Lucas, _beautiful_ Lucas trusted _him_ , and that was all he needed in life. 

Again he was startled back to the present by the touch of Lucas’ hand on his chin, this time pulling his face forward for a chaste kiss. His voice hummed pleasantly in Eliott’s ears as he spoke.

“I trust you, but I want you to take your morning dose now, with me, okay?”

Eliott wavered but nodded, swinging his legs again as Lucas collected a bottle from the medicine cabinet, counting two of the pills into his hand before depositing them into Eliott’s palm. He handed him a glass of water from the desk, watching closely as Eliott took a gulp of water, put the pills in his mouth, and swallowed. Lucas smiled, screwing the lid back on the pill bottle.

“Open up.” He commanded, pressing his thumb against Eliott’s chin until he opened his mouth to prove it was empty. Eliott pushed his tongue against his bottom teeth and clamped his lips shut again when Lucas nodded, satisfied.

“Thank you. Now, I really have work to do. I’ll let you off group therapy just this once, but you can’t stay here all morning.” He gave Eliott a kiss on the cheek. “As much as I would like you to.” He smiled as Eliott hopped off the desk, giving him a playful slap to the ass as he pushed him towards the door. Eliott knocked his hand away with a grin, tugging on it at the last moment to pull Lucas against his chest, revelling in the shocked yelp the doctor let out. He pressed a kiss to Lucas’ nose and smiled against his skin.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He whispered, bobbing away from Lucas and out of the door before the younger man could reply. 

 

Back in his room, Eliott twisted his tongue in his mouth, pushing out the pills he’d hidden beneath it behind his bottom teeth. He spat the slimy pills into his palm, dropping them into the bedside draw before collapsing onto the bed.

 

* * *

Hours later, he was back in his room again after dinner, pacing beside the bed to relieve some of the pent up energy coursing through his system. He was right, Arthur hadn’t missed him in the morning, and had been too busy trying to attract Alexia’s attention at dinnertime to pay much attention to him. He too had been distracted, jerking his head up every few minutes to see if he could spot Lucas anywhere in the room. The doctors rarely came into the canteen when they were having meals, leaving it to the nurses to supervise, yet Eliott hadn’t been able to stop himself from searching for the familiar flop of brown hair. He’d had no such luck though, and his impatience to see Lucas again only added to the adrenaline already building in his veins, counting down the minutes until the ward would be empty enough for him to slip into Lucas’ office.  
He sat down on the bed, then stood up again almost immediately, agitated. He wanted to _do_ something for Lucas, make him happy with something. Lucas’ laugh was his favourite noise in the world, he had decided that morning, and he needed to do something to make Lucas laugh again, needed to hear the clear, high sound of it, to feel the reverberations of it in Lucas’ throat as he kissed it. 

He paced again.

* * *

At some point he found himself scrawled across the floor, foot stuck out to the side, tapping uncontrollably against the carpet as he tried to draw something in his sketchbook. If he could only draw Lucas, and see that smile on the paper then maybe the time would go faster - or maybe he could draw Lucas and give him the drawing, then he’d give Eliott a smile and a kiss in return and that would be the greatest trade deal ever, in the history of trade deals, greater than any deal made by any great leader. Fuck, if everyone traded with kisses, wouldn’t the world be a better place? If everyone in the world kissed like Lucas kissed him, all the problems of capitalism would be solved, Lucas’ kisses could solve world hunger, probably bring world peace - why didn’t people _kiss_ more, didn’t they know how good it felt? How right it made everything?  
The paper beneath Eliott’s pencil crumpled as he pressed down too hard, and he ripped the page out, falling onto the next one eagerly. The lines were too big, too dark, and his pencil snapped as he pressed down too hard but he kept going, he needed to draw Lucas’s beautiful face like he needed to breathe. The lines were all wrong, he couldn’t get the hair right, and he ripped the next page out, tearing out the one after it too because it didn’t seem right, then tearing out the next three because they were so blank, and white, and he couldn’t face the empty page without _Lucas’_ face on, and then he pulled too hard on the next page and the whole book flew out of his grasp but it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter, if he crouched down he could draw on the carpet, maybe then it would be right, but it wasn’t, and then he dropped the pencil and jumped up anyway.  
It was suddenly dark in the room - _how long had he been drawing?_ \- but it didn’t matter because dark meant night and night meant seeing Lucas and Eliott’s whole body tingled at the thought and he smiled at the darkness, and the darkness smiled back. He was by the window now - _when did he get here?_ and he could see the stars twinkling down at him and for a moment he frowned because he didn’t know what they reminded him of, and then he remembered, and he laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Because it was Lucas, of course it was Lucas, the stars were like his eyes and if only Eliott could reach out and take a star then Lucas could see it and he’d know how beautiful his eyes were. And then Eliott laughed again because what was to stop him from reaching out and taking one? He could simply open the window, like so, and climb against it and reach out - except it was awkward because his t-shirt was getting caught on the window ledge, so he would have to take it off, he would have to take it off and then why shouldn’t he take his sweatpants off too, they were so _heavy_ and inconvenient and wasn’t it so much more comfortable to feel his bare skin against the window glass? Then he could reach out properly and grab a star, except now he couldn’t because something was grabbing _him_ around the ankle - or maybe he _was_ the star and he was grabbing himself? And the thought was so confusing that he lost his grip on the window and fell back onto the carpeted floor and something was still tugging and tugging and tugging him. He twisted around to see and felt a sharp pain in his neck, but the hurt barely registered because the thing on his ankle was _Lucas_ and what was he doing holding onto Eliott’s ankle? Eliott couldn’t tell if he’d said that bit out loud or not but he realised Lucas’ mouth was moving, Lucas was saying something and Lucas was _important_ so Eliott had to swim through the custard filling his ears and _listen_. The noises were garbled and Eliott’s neck was still throbbing, there was something sharp stuck in it, and he moved his hand up to touch it but his hand was too sluggish, flopping back onto the carpet. So Eliott stared at the twisting shape of Lucas’ mouth instead, trying to decipher the noises coming out, and they were nonsense at first but then words started appearing.

“...I can’t do this...I can’t do this…”

 _Can’t do this._ thought Eliott. _Can’t do this._

_Can’t. Can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t… ___

__The word garbled around itself, the only thing Eliott could hear as the pain in his neck surged one final time and the room went black._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this chapter was a lot harder to write than i thought it would be, please let me know what you think!
> 
> also apologies to anyone who has ever studied medicine of any kind, bc my information is 90% gleaned from articles and 10% made up lmao sorry for any inaccuracies 
> 
> as always, thank you a million times for reading, and hooray for season 5! (i'm late but this is my first chapter since the news, and if you haven't guessed i love arthur with my whole heart so i'm never shutting up about this) <333


	9. interlude - lucas

“I can’t do this on my own, Eliott, you have to work with me here, I can’t get you down on my own. C’mon, come down from the window, _please_.”

Lucas gripped onto Eliott’s ankle with a vice-like grip, terrified to let go. His heart felt like it was about to rip out of his chest.

“Eliott! Can you hear me? I need you to come down from the window now. Eliott, please. _Please,_ come down!”

He had to fight not to sob as he injected a sedative into Eliott’s neck, panicked tears threatening to spill from his eyes as the boy’s body went limp beneath him, limbs curled awkwardly where he had fallen on the floor. Eliott’s whole body was jittery, shivering uncontrollably as the sedative kicked in, and he thrashed his naked legs against the carpeted floor.

Lucas knelt over him, held his cheeks so hard it would probably bruise, and felt his heart shatter as Eliott’s roving eyes fluttered closed. 

 

* * *

 

Only when Lucas reached his apartment that night did he allow himself to break, shutting the door behind him blindly, not bothering to turn the lights on. He stood trembling, trying to compose himself, but he couldn’t, and he couldn’t, and he couldn’t, and suddenly his fist was crashing into the door and pain was splitting across his hand and he was sobbing, and his legs were giving way and he was sliding down to the cold floor. His body began to shake as the knot in his throat grew and grew, twisting tighter until he was gasping for breath. He barely registered the wetness spilling across his cheeks when he keeled over his knees, chest heaving with broken, gasping breaths, unable to stop the sobs as he cried. Lucas cried because he’d had such high, high hopes for Eliott’s recovery, and because he’d been so blind to his regression. He cried because he would never be a good doctor and the last seven years of training were a waste; he cried because his mother wasn’t here to comfort him and his father didn’t care. He cried because Eliott had lied to him, and because he’d believed it, and he cried because he had failed the most important person in his life. 

Lucas cried till he couldn’t cry anymore. 

Then he stayed curled up by his front door in the dark, until Ouba snuffled over, pushing her head persistently against his arms until he removed them from over his head. His eyes felt like lead as he raised them to look at her twitching her nose inquisitively, and he sank his hand into her warm fur, pushing his fingers through it to ground himself. As much as he tried, however, he couldn’t shake off the terror that had gripped him ever since entering Eliott’s room and seeing him trying to climb out of a window, wearing only his underpants, garbling something incomprehensible about stars. On seeing him Lucas had remained frozen for a minute, then had practically flown across the room to get him down, his terror blooming as Eliott didn’t respond. Logically, he knew he hadn’t really been in too much danger - the windows were locked to a certain width, and physically couldn’t be opened wide enough for Eliott to pass through. And yet, Lucas couldn’t remember a time in his entire medical career when he’d felt so afraid - not when he’d had to perform CPR for the first time, not when he was first put in charge of the ward, not even when he’d seen his first cadaver. It was more than fear that had gripped him this evening - it was defeat, it was the realisation of his own weakness, and - most of all - it was guilt. He had failed Eliott. 

Lucas unfurled his legs and stood up off the floor, gripping onto the door frame to steady himself. The blood was already drying where he’d split the skin on the back of his knuckles, and deep blue bruises were blossoming across them, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Leaning against the door and staring into the blackness of his apartment, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of total isolation. The vast emptiness of his home stared back at him, accusing. Lucas baulked, practically threw some food down for Ouba, then stumbled back out of the door, his fingers stumbling over his phone as he tried to tap out a text.

 

 

When Lucas arrived at Yann’s house, he was already at the door waiting. He took one look at Lucas then pulled him over the threshold into a bone crushing hug. Lucas hissed involuntarily as Yann brushed against his hand, and his friend pulled back with a frown, dropping his eyes down to Lucas’ hand.

“You want me to get something for that?”

Lucas nodded gratefully, not trusting his voice, and Yann gave him a curt nod back before leading the way to the bathroom, pulling out bandages and painkillers from the cabinet. Lucas slumped against the wall, leaning his head against the bath as Yann gently cleaned the grazes on his hand and wrapped his knuckles in gauze. Lucas could feel the concern and curiosity radiating off him, but Yann said nothing, simply finishing his work in silence before retreating back to sit on the edge of the bath, watching Lucas patiently. Lucas stared down at his hand for a while, feeling the tears well up in his throat again. He tried desperately to swallow them down before giving up, his eyes pricking painfully as he opened his mouth.

“I - I fucked up, Yann.”

His voice cracked as he spoke, raspy and thick with tears that began to fall, unbidden, dripping down his cheeks and onto his bandaged hand. He didn’t dare look at Yann, who simply sighed and slid down the wall next to him, pulling Lucas’ head down onto his shoulder.

“C’mon, don’t worry about it for now. We don’t have to talk about it.”

It wasn’t until later, when Lucas collapsed onto Yann’s sofa bed in a pair of borrowed pyjamas, that he found the strength to speak again, uttering a raspy “Thank you”. Yann squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, threw him a blanket, and turned out the light.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Lucas dressed in the same clothes as the night before, knowing he had a spare uniform at work, and scribbled a quick note thanking Yann before leaving for the hospital. As much as he wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear for a while, there was no way in hell he could miss work. There were too many people depending on him, and more importantly, he was worried about Eliott. He had been settled in bed after being sedated, injected with a new dose of medication and left to sleep, but Lucas couldn’t help the feeling of foreboding that spread through him as he approached the hospital. What if Eliott had woken up, tried to get out of the window again? What if he had injured himself? What if he _hadn’t_ woken up?

When he reached the door to Eliott’s room, Lucas hesitated for only a second, then pushed the door open. The curtains were shut, and Lucas had to blink for a few moments as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, squinting to see the motionless lump in the bed. Eliott was totally hidden from view, cocooned under the covers, with only his straggled tufts of hair poking out across the pillow. Lucas itched to reach out and stroke it, to pull the duvet down and caress Eliott’s face, but he held back. The subtle rise and fall of the covers betrayed Eliott’s breathing - slow and regular, clearly still asleep - and Lucas knew that it would do no good to wake him. After lingering a moment longer than was strictly necessary, he crept out of the room and made his way to his office, anxious to start the day and distract himself as much as possible. On reaching his desk however, he found a ziplock bag, with a post-it note bearing Daphne’s initials reading _Found in Eliott’s room. Thought you should know._

With trembling fingers, Lucas peeled off the post-it note to see the contents of the bag, squeezing his eyes shut as soon as he saw the collection of pills nestled inside. He’d known - of course he’d known, when he saw Eliott at the window - that he hadn’t taken the medication, but somehow seeing it made it so much worse. Lucas screwed up the bag in his fist, and in that moment made a decision. He swiveled round to his computer and began tapping out an email. 

It was for the best. 

 

A few hours later, he finalised the arrangement by transferring the last of Eliott’s files into the office next door, occupied by his colleague Dr M Demissy. Although a couple of years older, she had arrived at the hospital shortly after himself and they had quickly struck up a friendship. Lucas trusted her more than any of the other doctors on the ward to take over responsibility for Eliott’s care. She had been surprised by the request, but agreed immediately, swiftly sorting through the extra paperwork. As Lucas handed her the last of it, she brushed her hand down his arm, giving him a softly concerned look.

“You know I’m more than happy to do this, Lucas, but can I ask why you need me to? You’ve already organised a whole treatment plan for Eliott yourself.”

Lucas made an effort to smile back, although he knew it probably looked more like a grimace.

“I just...I can’t, Manon. I’m not good for him.”

She responded with a knowing look, squeezing his hand tightly for a moment.

“Okay. That’s fine, I’ll take it from here. I’ll look after him.”

And that was it. Eliott was no longer under his care. Lucas pushed down the crescendo of sadness and regret rising in his gut and forced himself to think rationally. It wasn’t healthy for him to be with Eliott. It was destructive, there was a reason doctors were forbidden from having relationships with patients. He had been stupid to believe it could work. It was for the best.

Which was what he repeated to himself over the next week. Each time he lay awake in the small hours of the morning, remembering the brush of Eliott’s fingers through his hair. Each time he ventured out into the hospital gardens, half hoping to see a familiar figure amongst the trees. Each time he sat at his desk, staring across his office, remembering _that’s where he first kissed me, here’s where he picked me up, over there’s where he hugged me until I couldn’t breathe._

And he was still repeating it to himself when he dropped into Arthur’s room a week later with his latest psychiatric report, smiling at the young man that he’d befriended over the course of his stay in the hospital. He was one of the ward’s longest-term residents, and Lucas had always found him easy to talk to.

But today nothing felt easy, and going through the report with Arthur drained Lucas, making him unable to respond properly to Arthur’s joking comments and bright humour. After a while, Arthur seemed to give up trying, sitting back in his bed to stare at Lucas as he fiddled with a sleep monitor.

“You really like him, huh.”

Lucas jumped at the sound of Arthur’s voice, his hands freezing against the dials of the monitor.

“I - uh, what?”

Arthur laughed softly, waving a hand as if to brush off Lucas’ pretenses.

“Eliott. You really do care about him.”

Lucas floundered for a moment, on the verge of denial, but Arthur interrupted before he could speak.

“It was a statement, not a question. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” He paused for a moment, watching Lucas closely as if to gauge his reaction, then continued, his voice dropping in uncharacteristic seriousness.

“You know he cares about you too, right?”

Lucas let his shoulders fall in defeat. Unknowingly, Arthur had hit on the one thing that was plaguing him the most about the situation. And so before he knew it, against his better judgement, he found himself blurting out to Arthur -

“I know - I know he cares about me. And I care about him. But we shouldn’t - we _can’t_. It’s not...good for him to care about me.”

Even if he hadn’t seen the incredulous jerk of Arthur’s hand and his widened eyes, Lucas couldn’t escape the disbelief in his voice as he leaned forward in bed, shaking his head.

“Not - not good for him!? Lallemant, you’re my doctor and I’m sorry if this isn’t my place to interfere, but holy fuck, are you blind? Have you not seen how happy you make him?”

_are you blind are you blind are you blind you didn’t see him regressing are you blind_

Lucas stared at the monitor in front of him, willing himself not to cry.

“Look, I’ve only known Eliott a few weeks, but I’m telling you, I’ve never seen anyone, let alone him, look as happy as he does whenever you walk past. He practically does puppy eyes, for fuck’s sake, he’s so into you it’s sickening.”

_it’s sickening it’s sickening it’s sickening he’s sick it’s your fault it’s sickening_

The monitor blurred in front of Lucas’ eyes.

“Doctor?”

_doctor doctor doctor doctor you’re an awful doctor you’ll never be good enough doctor_

Gripping his hand tightly in a fist, Lucas forced himself to look up and meet Arthur’s gaze. He could vaguely feel a tear slipping down his cheek, but didn’t have the strength to feel embarrassed about his lack of professionalism. _it’s not like you were fucking professional with Eliott, maybe if you were this wouldn’t have happened, maybe -_

“I hurt him, Arthur. I can’t bear to see him hurt because of me again.”

Arthur let out a faint chuckle under his breath, shaking his head before looking down into his lap, not looking at Lucas as he spoke again, softer this time. There was a catch in his voice Lucas couldn’t quite decipher.

“Doctor, c’mon. Can’t you see? You’re not hurting him by loving him,” _loving him loving him loving him_ “Maybe he’s hurting, yes, but it’s not your fault. And I think you know that - you’ve done enough psychiatric medical training to know that, I’m sure. I think there’s something else you’re afraid of. But whatever it is, _please_ don’t let it stop you loving him. There’s enough pain on this bloody ward without you adding to it.”

 

For the rest of the day, Arthur’s words kept turning in Lucas’ mind, adding to the turbulent internal monologue already raging there. He wrestled with them, denying them and ignoring them and suppressing them until finally, he couldn’t deny it any longer. It was true. He was afraid.

Fear had always been a prominent part of Lucas’ life. When he was a child and his parents would argue at night, it had been the fear of waking up in the morning to find one of them gone. When his father had turned to drink, it was the very real fear of a raised fist and steel capped boots. When his mother was diagnosed, it was the fear of losing her. And when his father left, lips curling in distaste as his mother sobbed and pleaded for him to stay, it had been the worst fear of all - the fear of becoming like him. Lucas _tried_ , he tried so hard to be there for his mother, but deep down he had always been consumed by the fear that he wouldn’t be enough for her, that he’d hurt her like his father did, that he’d leave her helpless because of his own, stupid, weakness. 

And so perhaps it was this that stopped him from going to see Eliott. The fear that he would never be enough for him, never be strong enough to clean up the mess he would undoubtedly make, just like his father. Because beneath it all, Lucas knew he felt more for Eliott than he ever had done for anyone in his entire life. And the thought of one day destroying that, was more painful than he could bear. Better to stop now before it went too far.

 

* * *

 

Lucas was winding up the last of his evening rounds when he heard it. At first, he thought it was a dispute in one of the more volatile patient’s bedroom - raised voices, heavy sets of footsteps. When the voices grew more shrill, and the footsteps grew quicker, he emerged from his penultimate patient’s room to investigate, almost tripping over Daphne as she came barrelling around the corner, her hair flying out of its neat bun in disarray.

“Daphne? What’s going in, is there some kind of problem?”

“Doctor Lallemant! Thank goodness, I wanted to find you, Demissy said I shouldn’t but it’s an emergency and I thought you might be able to help since you knew him before, because I _thought_ I’d shut the door but it was open and we’ve looked everywhere for him, and we told security but no one saw him go anywhere because he’s been in _bed_ for a week and -”

“Daphne! Calm down! What exactly has happened?”

Daphne was practically jumping from foot to foot, wringing her hands nervously as she blurted the words out at top speed. 

“It’s _Eliott_ , Doctor. He’s gone missing.”

The instant the words left her mouth, Lucas’ mind was reeling, unable to grip onto any coherent surface of thought. He was dimly aware of Daphne still talking, but barely heard the next words, feeling as if he’d taken a punch to the gut. _Eliott was missing_.   
It was as if a long anticipated wave had finally broken in Lucas’ brain, blocking out all other thoughts as the surf crashed through his mind. His own fear and self-doubt from earlier disappeared, the only thing that mattered now was getting to Eliott. And in a sudden burst of clarity, he knew, he knew exactly where to find him.

“Daphne, tell Doctor Demissy to cover my last patient. I’m finding him.”

He was amazed by the authoritative steadiness of his own voice, ripping off the stethoscope from around his neck and practically throwing it at Daphne as he swiveled around, heading for the elevator. His quick pace picked up to a jog and he threw himself at the elevator doors, jabbing desperately at the buttons, muttering under his breath as he waited.

“C’mon c’mon c’ _mon_!” 

The elevator wasn’t coming fast enough, and Lucas bounced on the balls of his feet in desperation, then gave up waiting, running instead towards the stairwell. He swung himself through the door, not even registering the nurse on the other side, who jumped, startled, out of his way as he leapt down the first stairs, his feet stumbling as he willed them to move faster. His coat flapped awkwardly behind him as he vaulted down the next staircase, almost catching on the railing when he pulled himself round the corner with it. As he reached the bottom floor, images began flashing, unbidden, through his mind. 

Eliott, laughing, squirming under Lucas’ touch as he kissed his neck.

Lucas sprinted across the bottom floor of the hospital, narrowly avoiding a cohort of interns.

Eliott, his hands in the sunrise, framing the edges of Lucas’ face.

Lucas reached the door, wrenched it open with a crash.

Eliott, in the courtyard, his lips hovering half open, an inch too far away.

Lucas ran across the darkening courtyard, his footsteps slapping loudly against the cobbles.

Eliott, blushing, as Lucas fed him, soft and tired in the hospital bed. 

Lucas sprinted towards the orchard, heart pounding, breath coming out in wheezing gasps.

Eliott, the first night he arrived, hair scattered out across the pillow in tangled strands, eyelids roving and fluttering in unseen pain.

Lucas reached the edge of the trees, staring frantically around. He barely even heard his own voice screaming out Eliott’s name, his heart pumping too loudly in his ears.

And the last image - Eliott curled into himself, knees drawn up to his chest as he crouched in the dark, half hidden by the trees around him. Except this one wasn’t just an image. 

Lucas stopped shouting, stumbled when he saw him. He breathed out Eliott’s name one last time, almost tripping over the long grasses in his desperation to reach the broken, sobbing figure on the ground. In a split second he had ripped off his coat, throwing it over Eliott’s shoulder as he stumbled down to his knees beside him, not caring about the mud and grass stains he was getting. Heart still pounding like a drum in his chest, threatening to burst out, he forced his shaking hands to cooperate, slipping one down Eliott’s face, tugging it up. The sight of the tear snaking its way down Eliott’s chin almost broke Lucas, but he forced himself to stay strong, cradling Eliott’s face between his hands as he pulled him closer.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

The words fell from his lips so naturally, wrapping around Eliott so perfectly. Lucas repeated them, drawing his other arm tighter around Eliott’s shaking body as he did so, trying to will some warmth back into him.

“Do you hear me? You’re not alone anymore.”

He whispered the words again and again, tugging Eliott against his chest and whispering them into his hair. The boy in his arms shuddered and quivered. Lucas held him close, and vowed in his heart never to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew, that was a rollercoaster. i found this one really hard mecs, and i'm still not 100% happy with it, but at least it's done!  
> thank you for reading, every single one of you <3
> 
> tumblr: @papparadise


	10. x

The next thing Eliott felt was a hand pressed against his cheek, another one gripping onto his shoulder as he was suddenly encased in a warm embrace. He recoiled instinctively, but felt himself being pulled closer against someone’s firm chest - a warm, trembling body, strong hands caressing his skin, soft hair brushing his forehead as he heaved and sobbed. 

_Lucas._

As soon as he realised who it was, Eliott found himself unable to fight the embrace, falling helplessly into Lucas’ arms and buckling under a new wave of sobs. Over the sound of his wracking breaths he heard Lucas’ voice - Lucas’ soft, comforting, grounding voice - repeating the same thing over and over against Eliott’s hair, as if he was trying to imprint the words onto his skull.

“You’re not alone anymore. You’re not alone.”

 _You’re not alone._ Eliott didn’t know why Lucas was here, why he had suddenly come back after a week of avoiding him, but in that moment it didn’t matter. He held onto the words like a lifeline, until Lucas’ voice was the only thing keeping him anchored, the only thing stopping him from slipping back into the dark. 

He gripped onto Lucas’ shoulder and felt himself come apart, breaking down before him, only held together by the strength of Lucas’ hands.

“Eliott, I need you to breathe with me, okay?”

Lucas was holding his torso firmly now, his fingers splayed out across Eliott’s ribs as he tried to separate their bodies, holding him up to breathe more easily.

“Look at me, Eliott. I want you to copy my breaths. We’ll do this together.”

 _Together._ Eliott’s chest still felt too tight, too twisted to allow air in, but Lucas’ words sent the smallest flicker of warmth through his veins, and he forced himself to breath, following the fluttering movement of Lucas’ lips as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. Gently, Lucas lifted one of Eliott’s hands and pressed it against his own heart, and Eliott focused on the rise and fall of Lucas’ chest as he breathed. Bit by bit, his own breathing slowed, and he found he could think a little more clearly, his throat no longer aching under the assault of jagged breaths. Lucas began tracing small circles on the back of Eliott’s hand as he recovered, creating invisible paths of warmth over his skin. Suddenly exhausted, Eliott felt himself tipping forward, falling against Lucas’ shoulder and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Lucas said nothing, but continued caressing his hand and pressed a kiss into his hair. 

 

* * *

 

What felt like hours later, Eliott found himself back in his room, lying on his bed as Lucas made various tests and readings of his vitals. He had hardly been aware of how they got here, only vaguely remembering leaning on Lucas as they stumbled out of the trees, staggering against the wall of the courtyard as Lucas sent in for help. In the glaring light of his room, the ethereal darkness of the orchard felt like miles away, and the sudden brightness forced him back into reality. 

Which was why he flinched the next time Lucas approached him, jerking his hand away. He suddenly felt ashamed of the way Lucas had found him earlier, hiding away like a child, and he turned his head away from Lucas’ gaze. Apparently this wasn’t enough to deter the other man, who simply sat on the far edge of the bed, leaving a wide space between them. Half of Eliott was grateful for this, and the other half just wanted Lucas to lean over and envelop him. He tried to focus on the former. 

After a while, the heavy silence between them grew uncomfortable, and Eliott knew Lucas wouldn’t leave until he spoke. He turned back to look at him, feeling himself floundering suddenly as he caught Lucas’ gaze, swimming with affection and patience and something that almost looked like guilt. Eliott caught his resolve starting to crumble, and stared past Lucas instead, gazing at a spot on the wall behind him before speaking.

“Where were you?”

His voice was raspy and quiet, and he hated how weak he sounded. From the corner of his eye, he could see Lucas flinching slightly, his shoulders dropping as he sighed. 

“I’m sorry, Eliott. I was...busy.”

Eliott practically scoffed at his response, rolling his eyes in disbelief. He suddenly felt angry, frustrated with whatever game Lucas was playing. He shot a glare at Lucas, but drew his eyes away quickly, refusing to let himself acknowledge the hollow look in Lucas’ eyes and the dark circles smudging underneath them.

“A week, Lucas. I’ve been stuck here a whole fucking week, with some random new doctor I’ve never even seen before, and you don’t even fucking think to check up on me? Because what, you’ve been _busy_?!”

Eliott practically spat the words at Lucas, forcing himself up in the bed so he was on the same level as the other man. 

“Eliott, I’m sorry. I know I should have, but I just...couldn’t. I know you -”

“Couldn’t what, Lucas?!” Eliott was seething now, his voice raised to a shout as he tried to ignore the way Lucas shrank before him. “Couldn’t see me? Or just didn’t fucking want to?”

“Eliott, I -”

“No, Lucas! I don’t give a shit about whatever half-assed excuse you have! You can’t fucking try and tell me all that bullshit about not being alone after you ditch me like that!”

He was fully aware of how terrible he must look right now - thumping his bed with a fist as he shouted, hair running wild across his forehead. He was past the point of caring.

“If you don’t care about me, just tell me. At least say it to my face, instead of avoiding me for a week! Do you have any fucking idea how -”

“ _I avoided you because I love you!_ ”

Eliott jumped at the sound of Lucas’ sudden shout, clamping his mouth shut instantly in surprise. Lucas was staring at him wildly, desperately, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. As Eliott stared at him in shock, his face seemed to drop in exhaustion, his hands gripping the bed sheets weakly as he fought to meet Eliott’s gaze. Eliott almost trembled as he looked into Lucas’ eyes, wanting to shy away from the desperation there. When Lucas spoke again his voice was quiet and thick, cracking slightly in his throat. 

“I avoided you because I love you, Eliott. And it terrifies me. I thought I couldn’t be enough for you, that I was hurting you. And I couldn’t bear to see you hurt because of me. I know it was stupid, alright? You don’t have to tell me that. ”

Eliott felt like he was free falling through endless space, head spinning helplessly. Lucas loved him? It felt too good to be true - because it was, he realised. There was no way Lucas could truly love something as messed up and chaotic as he was. Lucas was happy, light, easy. He didn’t belong with the darkness and difficulty that was Eliott’s life. He deserved more.

“Eliott?”

“It’ll happen again.”

Lucas had been reaching out, trying to take Eliott’s hand, but he jerked it away. He stared down into his lap, forcing the words out and feeling his heart crumble a little more with each one.

“It’ll happen again, and you’ll get scared and you’ll leave, again. It’s better off if we just don’t bother. You were right to avoid me. I’d rather you leave than stay and pity me.”

Lucas froze, stared at him in disbelief.

“Eliott, don’t fucking talk like that. I don’t _pity_ you. I love you, for crying out loud, did you not hear me when I said that?”

“Of course I heard you, Lucas, but it’s not true. You said it yourself, you can’t do this.”

Lucas’ head jerked around at that and he stared at Eliott in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. 

“When? When did I say that?”

Eliott met his gaze reluctantly, realising too late that Lucas probably didn’t know he’d heard him that night as he pulled Eliott down from the window. Lucas didn’t know it, but the words had haunted Eliott’s mind every waking minute since then. _I can’t do this._  
He shifted uncomfortably.

“That night...by the window. You said yourself you can’t do it. Can’t do...this” He gestured vaguely between them. 

To his surprise, Lucas’ frowned disappeared. Realisation dawned on his face after only a moment, and he broke out into a smile, reaching out to grab Eliott’s hand. This time, Eliott didn’t have the strength to move away.

“I didn’t mean I couldn’t do this, Eliott! I said I can’t do this _alone_ , you complete idiot. I can’t do this, any of this, without you.”

And _oh_ , thought Eliott. 

Before he had time to think anything else, Lucas was leaning forwards, brushing the sweat-damp hair off his forehead and taking his cheeks in his hands. He tipped their heads together gently, and Eliott felt himself sigh. 

“I don’t want to do this without you, Eliott. I really, truly, deeply, honestly, wholeheartedly, love you.”

A weight seemed to fly off Eliott’s shoulders. Without even realising it, he had brought his hands up to grip onto Lucas’ own, vaguely feeling warm tears sliding across his fingers. Whether his or Lucas’, he couldn’t tell. 

“Okay.” he whispered, unable to muster up anything more eloquent to express the relief currently washing through his body. 

“Okay?” repeated Lucas, tipping his head back slightly to squint at Eliott mockingly. “Dramatic love declaration and all I get in return is ‘okay’? Honestly, some patients these days, the absolute epitome of ingratitude.”

He chuckled as Eliott shot him a joking glare, running his hand up and into his hair. Eliott closed his eyes for a moment, revelling in the feeling of Lucas’ fingers against his scalp and the sound of his laughter. Fuck, he had missed that sound more than anything. Not that he would ever admit that to Lucas.

(He did, later, and Lucas blushed hard enough to rival the sun, before tickling Eliott relentlessly to hear _his_ laugh, and pronouncing it the most beautiful sound in the world. Eliott blushed equally hard.)

With a content sigh, Eliott fell back again, pulling Lucas with him so they were both lying down on the bed, Lucas tucking himself immediately against his chest and tracing his fingers across it. Eliott breathed him in, allowing his hand to trail up and down Lucas’ back. There were still things to talk about, but for now neither of them wanted to talk anymore. Eliott was tired, so tired. He buried his nose further into Lucas’ hair and inhaled deeply. As he slipped into sleep, Lucas’ fingers never stopped moving, caressing up and over his chest, tracing circle after circle over his heart. 

 

* * *

 

Lucas stayed all night. Whenever Eliott stirred in his sleep, he could feel a warm, heavy weight against his chest, a small hand curled into his neck, a faintly fluttering breath over his collarbone. And when morning finally dawned, Lucas woke him up again with a series of small kisses to his nose, stroking his hands through Eliott’s hair as he came to. They kissed, and talked some more, and kissed again (and again, and again) until Lucas was called away to begin his morning rounds, and Eliott was left to eat breakfast. After breakfast he slept some more, then wandered aimlessly around his room, waiting for Lucas to return. As he gazed absently at the laminated information sheets that adorned various walls in the hospital, a calendar caught his eye, and a sudden wave of realisation dawned on him.  
This was it.  
Or at least, the day after tomorrow was it.  
The day appointed as his provisional release date from the hospital. The day when, subject to his doctor’s approval, his parents’ permission, his own agreement, and the results of medical tests, he could be allowed to go home. 

A few weeks ago, he was longing for this day to come sooner, unable to bear the thought of being trapped inside this hospital room, anxious to see his parents. But now? Now that it was only two days away? The thought of it filled him with dread. It didn’t matter to him about seeing his parents, about going back to his own apartment, about being free. There was only one thing that mattered anymore, only one thing he was certain about, but suddenly it felt uncertain. 

Lucas.

What would happen between them, once he left the hospital? Lucas said he loved him, but he’d only ever known Eliott the patient, never the real, free Eliott that had existed outside of this ward. What if he didn’t like what he found? Eliott thought suddenly of all the things he would see once he left - he thought of seeing Lucas’ flat, of meeting his parents, of Lucas meeting _his_ parents.  
And he wanted it all. More than he’d wanted anything before. He ached with how much he wanted it, the thought of it making his heart swell until it was almost painful. Because, there was just one, nagging, problem.

What if Lucas changed his mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dudes it's been too long, it feels like ages since i last updated, je suis desole for that. buttttt maybe the brief fluff can make up for it?  
> either way thank you so much for reading, the amount of love i got for the last chapter was insane and it really makes my day whenever someone comments, so big love to you all xxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	11. xi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG

“And you haven’t been experiencing any other side effects? No headaches, migraines, nausea?”

“No.”

“No trouble sleeping? Or perhaps the opposite - have you noticed any particular lethargy, feeling more tired than usual?”

“Not particularly.”

Eliott replied mechanically to the psychiatrist’s questions, admitting almost regretfully that his medication seemed to be working, with no adverse side effects so far. He had spent the whole morning being checked over and interviewed, each new doctor and therapist giving him a pleased nod at the end of their discussion, oblivious to the nervousness broiling in Eliott’s gut. Every assessment he passed, every correct answer he gave, brought him one step closer to leaving the hospital and going home. And one step further from Lucas. And for a long, terrifying moment, Eliott teetered between the two - because somehow, somewhere along the way, _Lucas_ had begun to feel like home. 

All too soon, his last physical assessment was drawing to a close, and the doctor gave a satisfied smile while he gathered up his papers, tapping something into a computer before turning back to Eliott. 

“Well, I’m pleased to tell you that’s it, Eliott! Your medication seems to be working, you’ve adjusted well to the new routine, and we’ve developed a new plan for you to follow at home. You’ll stay on the Lithium, but we’re going to start you on Trazodone as well, to help with your sleep. You’ll be in for regular check ups, of course but other than that…” He paused for effect. Eliott fought down a sudden urge to punch him in the face. “You’re free to go! We’ve contacted your parents, and they’ll be here to pick you up tomorrow morning.” The doctor widened his eyes and gave a simpering smile, as if to say _that’s it, there’s your treat, now say thank you like a good boy._

Eliott nodded, once, then stood up and left the room.

 

* * *

Back in his own room, he began to regret his moment of petulance. He should be grateful, really, to be leaving, and he knew it. But nonetheless, the hospital had become a safe little bubble for him, a place where he didn’t have to deal with parents and jobs and friends, who were either pissed at him or had forgotten about him - he couldn’t decide which was worse.  
As he threw himself facedown on the bed in frustration, he heard someone barrel through the door. The unceremonial “dude” in greeting and the sudden sip of his bed as another body flopped onto it told him that it was Arthur.

“I must say, Eliott, I’m shocked. Shocked, and appalled, and disappointed.”

Eliott rolled halfway onto his back, eyeing Arthur suspiciously from his end of the bed.

“I cannot believe you’re leaving me alone in this dump! Already! I mean, it’s one thing to keep ditching me for Doctor Lover Boy, but to actually leave-”

“Hey, as if you’re any better, ditching me for Alexia all the time! I’ve barely seen you this last week.”

Eliott threw his pillow at Arthur’s head - missing it by a mile - causing the blond boy to laugh and flip him off, twisting in the bed till he could sit up and face Eliott. Eliott watched as his grin faded and he grew serious, pulling at the skin around his fingernails idly.

“I mean I’m, I’m happy for you really, Eliott. It’s great that you’re going, that you can get back to normal life.”

Eliott tipped his head back again, and said, with great effort,

“Yeah, yeah, it’s great.”

Arthur gave him a rueful smile, dipping his head understandingly.

“Don’t wanna go, huh?”

He paused, but evidently wasn’t expecting Eliott to reply, and continued a moment later.

“I get it. A lot of them are the same - the other guys on here, I mean. This place becomes like a seperate life, y’know? A safer one. And no one ever quite feels ready to go back to the real world, no matter how much they may pretend to dislike it here.”

Eliott said nothing, and Arthur seemed to take his silence as agreement, continuing a moment later.

“But it gets better, y’know? Real life, it’s not all bad, you just have to take the risk. There’s so many more things out there than just this tiny ward.”

“Like what?”

“Like, I’d really fucking kill for a McDonalds right now, I haven’t even _seen_ one in six months, let alone eatan the greasy goodness.”

Eliott laughed out loud at that, shaking his head.

“Once you get out of here, Arthur, I promise I’ll buy you a McDonalds. Two, if you like. You’re practically wasting away without all that ‘greasy goodness’ inside you.”

Arthur cuffed his knees teasingly, and then they were back to joking, reminiscing laughingly about all the things they could see and do and eat outside of the ward. Eliott began to relax a little, the heavy weight in his chest beginning to dissolve.

And that’s how they were still, half an hour later, when Eliott’s door creaked open again, and Lucas walked in. Without meaning to, and without quite realising he was doing it, Eliott’s voice trailed off, and he fell silent, his eyes instantly meeting Lucas’ across the room.

For a moment, they simply looked. The air was still.

Eliott’s stomach seemed to relax on reflex as soon as he saw Lucas’ open, honest face, but then twisted and clenched as he saw the sheet of paper dangling from Lucas’ fingers and realised why he was here. This was it. The final contract he had to sign, to say _yes, I’m ready, send me home_

“Well, gentlemen. I must bid thee adieu!”

Eliott’s eyes jerked back to Arthur, having momentarily forgotten he was even in the room. The blond was swinging himself off the bed, looking between Eliott and Lucas with a knowing smirk.

“I’ll leave you to your, ah, medication.” He announced, throwing a wink in Eliott’s direction before he left. 

As soon as he was gone, Lucas broke into a radiant smile, moving across and leaning down over the bed until he was hovering directly over Eliott’s face.

“Hey.”

The whispered word barely was barely loud enough to leave Lucas’ mouth, wavering on his lips and drifting slowly into the space between them.

Eliott watched a strand of hair slip from the cascading nest atop Lucas’ head inches above him, falling down to dangle against Eliott’s own forehead.

“Hey.”

His own whisper was raspy as he replied, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, reluctant to form the letters.

He watched the way Lucas’ eyes crinkled at the edges as his lips curled up slowly into a smile, his eyelashes fluttering against his soft skin. And finally, finally, Lucas leaned down the last few centimetres, pausing just before their lips met, before falling down, down, onto Eliott’s waiting mouth, propped up above him whilst Eliott finally lifted his hands to tangle them in his hair.

And Eliott tried not to think, as he kissed Lucas, that this could be the last time. 

(He tried. And he failed.)

Minutes later, Lucas broke away, lifting himself back up to sit on the edge of the bed. He seemed to sense Eliott’s reservation, eyeing him carefully for a moment before speaking.

“So. Are you excited to leave?”

Eliott dropped his gaze for a split second, glancing down at his knuckles.

“I guess. I mean, yeah. Yeah.”

His hand twitched involuntarily, and Lucas immediately reached out to cover it with his own, smoothing his fingers down over Eliott’s knuckles before lifting their joined hands to drop a kiss onto them. 

“Nervous?”

Eliott nodded.

“You’ll be fine once you’re out, honestly. It’ll be so good, you can get back to everything you were doing before all this, after a while it’ll seem like you were never even in hospital, I bet!”

He was trying to be reassuring, but Eliott had to fight to repress a shudder as he listened. Is that what Lucas wanted, then? For it to be like Eliott had never even been in hospital? For everything that had happened between them over the last few weeks to be forgotten?

Deep down, Eliott knew that he was over analyzing it all, that Lucas was simply trying to help, but unknowingly the doctor had said precisely the wrong thing and Eliott’s mind was going into overdrive. Lucas had started speaking again but for the first time ever, Eliott found himself not wanting to listen, trying to zone out of what he was saying. He didn’t want to hear about all the things he could do once he was out, and he didn’t want to hear about the old, pre-Lucas life he could go back to. He wanted Lucas, here. But that, apparently, was the one thing he couldn’t have.

“...because of the visiting hours, but I’ll have to take you to see her one day soon,”

Eliott practically jolted as he zoned back into what Lucas was saying, not believing that he’d heard correctly.

“You what?”

“I said I’ll have to take you to visit her sometime soon, the clinic’s super nice and not far from here, although you’d better not fall for one of her doctors…”

Lucas was grinning at him playfully, but Eliott’s mind was still racing to catch up with what he’d just said.

“See who?”

“Do you have hair in your ears or what? My mother.”

And, _what?_

Eliott sat up straighter, staring at Lucas in disbelief, who stared back at him in slight confusion.

“Y-you want me to, see your mother?”

_please say yes please say yes please say yes_

“What? Of course I do, you dumbass. Unless...you don’t want to see her?”

“I - yes, yes, no of course I do, yes, I just -”

Eliott practically stumbled over the words in his effort to get them out, and a perplexed smile took over Lucas’ face as he cocked his head in response.

“You just what?”

_deep breaths_

“I just, uh, you still...want to be with me?”

Lucas’ head jerked back in shock, and Eliott suddenly felt incredibly stupid.

“I just thought that, uh, maybeyouwouldn’twanttoseemeanymore”

The words fell out of his mouth in one long, garbled, mess, Eliott looking away sheepishly as soon as they were out. Lucas stared at him in disbelief for one long moment, during which Eliott wished for nothing more than for the ground to open beneath him and swallow him up.  
Then, suddenly, Lucas laughed. He straightened, clambered over to straddle Eliott’s lap, took his face in his hands and kissed him, hard, on the mouth.

“Eliott, baby, I love you, but you are without a doubt, the biggest dumbass I have ever met in my entire life.”

_baby?_

Eliott’s brain short circuited, and he found himself breathing out a laugh involuntarily, ducking his head down until Lucas stroked his cheeks and lifted it up again, forcing Eliott to meet his eyes. He watched the way they quivered as Lucas spoke, creasing at the edges when he smiled again.

“Do you not listen to a word I say? Of _course_ I want to be with you when you leave, of fucking course I do!”

He was loud and laughing, but then suddenly fell quieter again, gazing at Eliott with such seriousness that his very heart seem to slow down.

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, you know. Never. And -” He dropped Eliott’s gaze for a split second, grazing his thumb idly across Eliott’s cheekbone before whispering, “I don’t think I ever will again.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed.

Eliott had no words, no way to describe the absolute euphoria coursing through his veins, the relief that was making tears prick at the edges of his eyes.

The weight in his chest lifted, soared, disappeared.

After what felt like a century, Lucas leaned back from where their foreheads had been tipped together, drawing his fingers up under Eliott’s chin. He smiled softly, and Eliott was almost certain he was blushing.

“And, if you still don’t believe that, then maybe you’ll believe this instead.”

He tugged Eliott’s chin towards him gently, never breaking eye contact, until he finally closed his lips over Eliott’s own, enveloping him in a warm, tender kiss. Eliott’s eyes sank shut, and he circled his hands around Lucas’ neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer as their mouths interlocked, trying to convey all his relief and love into the movement of his lips between Lucas’.

From the way Lucas held him and kissed him as if he would consume him, Eliott guessed he succeeded.

* * *

The next morning, when the time came for Eliott to walk down to reception and be officially discharged, he felt lighter, freer, and finally ready to leave. In spite of himself, he missed his parents, and his apartment, and literally any other food that wasn’t the bland affair they served on the ward. Fuck, he was ready for some decent coffee.

After waiting in the reception lounge over an hour for his parents, however, he began to grow increasingly frustrated, eventually going over to the desk to enquire.

“Hi, uh, my parents should be here, to pick me up? Have they sent a message or anything to say when they’re coming?”

The hospital receptionist looked at him idly, before swiveling to her computer and tapping away at something for a moment. With a few clicks of her mouse and a small hum, she turned back to him and smiled.

“I’m sorry, I thought you’d been informed already. They called through earlier to say there was an emergency with the car, and they’re unable to pick you up. They requested that you be allowed to leave by yourself and take the bus home.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile, then pointed out the nearest bus stop. Through gritted teeth, Eliott nodded and smiled and walked away, trying to hide his frustration. Of all the times for there to be an “emergency”, did it really have to be the day he was leaving hospital? He knew it wasn’t his parents’ fault, but nevertheless it was with a sour mood that he finally slid open the large glass hospital doors, stepping out into the street for the first time in weeks.

He inhaled deeply as he walked out alone, taking in the plethora of smells that filled his nostrils - car exhaust and fast food and cigarette smoke, so different to the sterilised clean smell of the hospital. Everything sounded different, too - car horns and rushed footsteps and barking dogs replaced the constant beeping and rolling of trollies on the ward. As he listened, the sound of footsteps slapping the pavement grew louder, and he turned around just in time to see a figure barrelling towards him, feet hitting the ground loudly as he leapt the last few steps into Eliott’s chest.

“Wha - Lucas? What are you doing?”

He couldn’t help but laugh as the bundle of white coat and flopping hair in his arms resolved into the sight of Lucas, grinning up at him with heavy breaths, his cheeks tinged bright pink from running. He circled his arms around Eliott’s waist, then rocked back on his heels, tilting his head up to meet Eliott’s gaze.

“I can’t very well let you leave without saying goodbye, can I?”

Eliott shook his head and laughed again, dipping down to brush his nose against Lucas, who practically purred against him.

“No, no you certainly can’t.”

He dipped down again to meet Lucas’ lips, giving him a sweet, chaste kiss. Lucas reciprocated eagerly, then tipped his head back, fingering the lapel of Eliott’s coat in the absolute image of a bashful schoolboy.

“And besides, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh?” Eliott answered, raising his eyebrows lightly as he tucked a strand of hair behind Lucas’ ear.

“Well, I was thinking - since you’ve been living on hospital food for so long - there’s a new restaurant near my apartment, and I was wondering if you wanted to try it. With me. Tonight.”

“Doctor Lallement, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Is that a yes?”

Eliott giggled, nuzzling into Lucas’ cheek.

“How very -”

He kissed Lucas’ jawbone.

“Incredibly -”

He kissed his temple.

“Terribly -”

He peppered three kisses down his nose.

“Absolutely, unprofessional of you.”

He ended with a nibbling kiss to Lucas’ lips, both of them smiling in to it far too much.

“Just don’t tell my supervisor,” Lucas breathed against his mouth, “she’ll kill me.”

With one last peck to his lip, he brushed his hand down Eliott’s lapel and stepped away, still grinning like an idiot.

“Now, I’ve really got to get back, I’m still technically on shift. But I’ll see you tonight?”

“You’ll see me tonight.” Eliott agreed, smiling as Lucas began to walk away. 

“But wait, Lucas!” 

He called out loudly, and Lucas turned around quickly, concern written all over his face.

“Before you go…”

Eliott grinned and grabbed Lucas by the arm, pulling him back once more into a crushing kiss. Lucas giggled and melted beneath his hands, then finally pulled away again, dancing out of reach with a grin. 

“Later, Eliott!”

He turned away, bounding back towards the hospital. Eliott watched him go, unable to tear his eyes away. When Lucas reached the hospital doors he paused, turned back for a moment, searching down the street for Eliott. When their eyes met, he raised one hand, and blew a single kiss into the air, then disappeared inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaaand finally! we have! another chapter! i'm sorry it's been so long my dudes, i've been super busy with a new job but thank you sm for your patience and continued support <3 we're basically at the end now, just one more chapter to go! thank you again for reading, and for all your comments!


	12. epilogue

_3 months later_

_LUCAS_

It was one of those days, where the early evening sunlight was clear and laughing, where every hedgerow seemed to be in bloom and every patient asked for a window open, just to see the gentle rise and fall of their curtains with each breath of wind. Open-topped cars emerged in the street, tentatively lowering their tops to allow the sun-warmed breeze to ripple across the interior, where passengers lounged in contentment. On the pavement, a cyclist paused to tighten his shoelace, lingering a moment longer than necessary, as if to savour the feeling of the golden sunlight settling across his face. 

Inside the hospital, Lucas glanced longingly out the window, desperate to feel the freshness of the sun for himself. His shift had dragged on and on, the hands of his fob watch seeming to move so slowly he was almost convinced they were broken, every minute feeling like ten. But finally, the day was drawing to a close, and he was retreating into his office to tidy up the last files for the day, checking over the details of a few patients’ treatments and inputting the day’s findings into the hospital’s online database. And then, at last, he was pulling off his white coat and regulation trousers, tossing them into the ward’s laundry room and slipping back into his own jeans. He was meeting Eliott at a nearby restaurant tonight for dinner, and had decided to change into his date clothes at the hospital, knowing he would be finishing too late to make it back home in time to change there. 

He finished dressing quickly, deciding to make one last quick stop before leaving the hospital. The small hospital “shop” was situated on the ground floor, offering flowers and books and vending machines of shit coffee for people visiting their friends and family in the hospital. Ordinarily, Lucas steered well clear, resenting the forced sentimentality and fake cheerfulness of it, but today he directed his steps through the hallway doors, heading straight for the flower display. Here, he paused, chewing on his lip idly as he scrutinised bunches and bunches of bright petals which crowded the stand in front of him, desperately trying to decide which ones Eliott would like best. _Lilies?_ No, they were too pale. _Carnations?_ The yellow flowers seemed insipid, not bold enough. _Roses?_ They were cliche but...so was Eliott, Lucas decided, with a smile to himself. Eliott himself was a walking, talking cliche of romanticism - which was only one of the many, many things Lucas loved about him.  
Picking up a large bunch of deep red roses, Lucas swiftly paid and made his way out of the hospital, inhaling deeply the sweet smell rising from the hospital flowers in his grasp. Their scent was slightly subdued, weaker than that of truly fresh roses, but the sentiment behind them was more than strong enough to make up for it.  
With his nose still buried in the bouquet, Lucas walked down the pavement away from the hospital, noticing too late the tall figure leaning against the wall with one long leg jutting out onto the pavement. Unable to stop himself, he tripped over the outstretched foot, losing his balance and tumbling straight into the arms of the figure.

“Woah, looks like you just fell for me.”

A familiar voice resonated above Lucas, and he pulled himself out of the person’s grasp, straightening up again to see Eliott leaning over him, grinning uncontrollably as he took in Lucas’ surprise. Lucas laughed, immediately softening against Eliott, one hand crushing the bunch of roses between them and the other smoothing up over Eliott’s bicep and shoulder.

“Looks like I did, shame I already have a boyfriend.” Lucas replied with a smirk, curling his fingers against the exposed skin of Eliott’s neck.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s a dork but he’s wonderful, you should definitely feel intimidated.”

“I guess we’ll just have to get out of here before he arrives then.”

“I guess we will. These flowers were for him, but perhaps you can have them.”

Lucas proffered the roses to Eliott as best he could from his position pressed against the older man’s chest, grinning up at him unashamedly. Eliott’s eyes lit up, and he grinned back at Lucas uncontrollably, before plunging down to capture his mouth in a kiss. Lucas couldn’t help but giggle against Eliott’s lips, prompting Eliott to giggle back, until they were both reduced to a laughing mess, pressing kisses against each other’s lips between the smiles. 

“I love them.”

“Good. Dinner?”

“Dinner.”

* * *

_ELIOTT_

Dinner passed in a beautiful blur of wine and kisses and whispered words, until suddenly they were emptying their glasses, paying the bill (“Put your wallet away, Lucas, let me treat my boyfriend!”) and leaving the restaurant hand in hand. Their shoulders knocked together comfortingly as they wandered along the quiet Parisian streets, the gentle orange glow of the street lamps lighting their way back to Eliott’s apartment. Out of pure chivalry, Eliott invited Lucas to stay the night (“It’s too late to walk back to yours, you could get murdered on your way.” “You’re wrong, but fine.”) and they both collapsed onto the sofa as soon as Eliott unlocked the door, too pleasantly tired and full of warm food to do anything other than kiss lazily against the cushions for a few minutes, Eliott bracketing Lucas warmly beneath him. Eventually the kisses petered out, and Lucas shuffled over until he was lying on Eliott’s chest. Eliott sighed contentedly, brushing his fingers quietly up and over the exposed skin of Lucas’ lower back where his t-shirt had ridden up. He felt a sudden urge to lean down and kiss it, and did so, noting with pleasure the shudder that Lucas let out when he did. They lay quietly for a few more moments, occasionally breaking the silence to murmur a comment or a question. Lucas shifted slightly against Eliott, who leaned down to press a kiss into his hair.

“My mother rang earlier, when I was on my break.”

Eliott rubbed his hand in small circles against Lucas’ back, trying to gauge how tense he was, whether he needed to be worried.

“Oh? Is she alright?”

“Yeah, no she’s fine, she wants to know when you’re going to visit again - it seems like she misses you more than me at this rate.”

Eliott let out a low chuckle, pulling his arms tighter around Lucas’ small body for a moment.

“Of course she does, it’s my natural charm. I’d love to go see her again soon.”

“You sure? Just because there’s this event at her clinic this Sunday, some kind of games night for residents’ families, and I since I have Sundays off work I was wondering if you maybe, wanted to come with me? I mean, you don’t have to, it’ll probably be awful, and -”

“I’d love to come!” Eliott interrupted, grinning at Lucas’ nervousness. “Although you’re right, it does sound awful. You’re lucky I like your mother so much.”

Lucas pushed himself up, leaning forward so he was hovering just over Eliott’s face.

“My mother, of course,” He agreed, brushing their lips together, before settling back down, a tired groan slipping from his lips as he nestled into Eliott’s chest

Eliott felt a sudden surge of fondness as he gazed down at the body pressed against him, Lucas’ warm limbs draped all over him and the sofa in a sleepy heap. Carding a hand through Lucas’ hair, Eliott allowed his eyes to drift up and wander around his apartment, taking in the view. The roses Lucas had bought him were stood on the counter in a tall mug - the only thing he had been able to find to serve as a vase - the edges of the petals catching the dim light. Next to them, Lucas’ phone and wallet lay discarded, a mirror image of Eliott’s own on the coffee table. Both their shoes were kicked into the alcove by the door, alongside Eliott’s jacket and the one Lucas had left here last time he “accidentally” stayed the night. Everywhere Eliott looked, there were little signs of Lucas - from the pair of matching coffee cups on the table to the crooked door handle in the hallway (the consequence of a particularly desperate rush to get to the bedroom, during which the handle had come off in Lucas’ hand and had never quite been properly fixed). Eliott’s heart ached with the sheer domesticity of it all, accentuated by the steady rise and fall of Lucas’ warm chest pressed against his.  
It was unfathomable, Eliott reflected, just how different things had become. He cast his mind back to months before, when he would lie on the sofa in much the same manner, and look around his apartment in the same way, seeing only the isolation around him, the sheer hopelessness of his surroundings, the pointlessness of getting up and doing anything. The emptiness of his apartment before had been overwhelming, surrounding him with dark, empty walls. But now - now every wall was illuminated, warmed, smoothed over by the beautiful boy in his arms. No longer did he hide in sharp corners, burying himself in the shadows - now the edges were softened, the shadows dispelled by a new light. For the first time in years, Eliott felt safe, and truly, wholeheartedly, content. 

* * *

They weren’t perfect - far from it, in fact. Eliott was still bipolar, and Lucas was still suffering. But when Lucas’ mother regressed, and forgot his name, Eliott held his hand as he reintroduced himself, reminding her that she had a son. When Eliott’s mind span out of control, leaving him breathless and hyper and confused, Lucas held his face and made him still, reorganising a little of the chaos. When Lucas lost three patients in one week, Eliott took him in his arms and held him as he sobbed, whispering reminders that he was not a failure, that he had done his best, and that was all he could have done. And when Eliott was plagued by night terrors, cold fire choking him as he slept, Lucas was only a phone call away, always ready to jump up and sprint the short distance to Eliott’s flat to comfort him - until Eliott eventually offered him his own key and side of the bed, and then Lucas was only a whisper away.

They weren’t perfect. But they were working on it, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's....over???
> 
> it feels so crazy that this is over, and i want to say a huge thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you who have read this and stuck with me the whole way through - i can honestly say i enjoyed writing this an insane amount, and i can only hope you all enjoyed reading it half so much. this is the first time i have ever written a long fanfiction and i was super nervous about doing it, but the love i've received from so many of you has made it all worth it, and i'm just so grateful to be able to contribute my little part to such a wonderful fandom. 
> 
> and, for anyone who thinks they want to write but is afraid, please please do it! i've gained so much confidence in my writing through doing this, and it has been the perfect creative outlet (as well as an outlet for my undying love for elu, of course)
> 
> if you have any questions about anything i've written in this fic, or any last comments to make, please please leave a comment below! i love hearing your thoughts on each chapter and the story as a whole <3 
> 
> bisous, mes amis. je vous aime. vive l'amour, vive les reves, et vive skam france!


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